


Horns and Helmet : An Assortment

by dendraica



Category: Dragons: Riders of Berk (Cartoon), DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, lots of slash and one-sided yearnings ahead, most of these drabbles have Tuff as one of the main characters, scattered happy endings, this will just be an ongoing collection, which I will attempt and probably fail to keep organized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 40,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short fics and drabbles involving Tuffnut and his interactions with the other denizens of Berk. Some happy, others bittersweet, and maybe a few downright scandalous here and there. This series will likely never end, because the author is a proud nutjob who can't be stopped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Axes Are Red, Violence is Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q: What made Tuffnut decide to change his hairstyle?  
> A: A very unfortunate incident of mistaken identity.

Few things actually pissed Tuffnut Thorston off into a red-hot rage. One surefire way was to threaten or mess with Chicken. Another was to try and harm his dragon, Barf and Belch. 

(Messing with or harming his sister got him into a cold calculated rage in which everything appeared fine, but you would not see the end coming until it was miles too late.) 

A third and previously unknown method of firing the boy up was apparently to just be Snotlout Jorgenson.

That was all Astrid could figure anyway, as she watched the Jorgenson boy run screaming and stumbling across the muddy field, Tuffnut swinging an oversized axe at his heels. 

“I’M SORRY, OKAY?! I’M SORRY! SOMEBODY HEEEELLLLP!” Snotlout screamed as Tuff narrowly missed severing his spinal cord. 

Astrid cracked her knuckles and then her neck, sighing. 

Five seconds later, Tuff was on his back in the mud, getting it all over his face as he tried to staunch a bleeding nose. “Ow,” he complained morosely. Astrid hefted the axe, testing its balance.

“Sorry, Tuff. Couldn’t let you deflower such a beautiful weapon on Snotlout.” 

“Ah, it’s okay. It wasn’t paid for. Kinda yanked it away from Gobber as he was handing it to a customer.”

“Bet he was thrilled. So, what exactly did Snotlout do?”

“Ugh, do I have to tell you?”

Astrid smirked. “Does it involve Ruffnut?” she guessed, knowing both of the twins were fed up to here with Snotlout’s excessive flirting and serenading and Gods-knew-what-else.

“It involves a boner for Ruffnut. Pressed up against MY back.” 

She couldn’t help it. Astrid burst out laughing, leaning against a fence post for balance. “Are you - are you serious?!” she gasped.

Tuffnut sat up angrily, trying to scrape mud off himself. “Not only did he mistake me for HER, since she didn’t wear her braids today, but he comes up right behind me, with a raging, STIFF AS MJOLNIR’S HANDLE -”

“Okay, okay, shhh,” Astrid managed, trying to calm her friend down. “I get the idea!”

“Not that I would care if a boner was MEANT for me, but -”

“Tuffnut, for the love of Thor, keep it down!” she snickered.

“But he goes, ‘Hey, Ruff, wanna go on a midnight ride’, and I fuckin’ - AAAGH, I am just feeling so violated right now!” He punched the ground, sending mud spattering in his face.

Tuff actually really did sound upset. Almost on the verge of tears upset. Astrid bit her lip in sympathy and offered him a hand. “Well, you can’t kill him since I’m sure he’s half-way to Dragon Island by now, but I can at least make sure that doesn’t happen to you again.” 

“Awww. You’ll cut off his dick for me?” Tuff sniffled. “I don’t care what Chicken says, you’re a great friend.”

“I … well, as tempting as that sounds, I actually had something else in mind. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

\--------------------

Hiccup’s eyes were full of questions as he kissed Astrid’s cheek in greeting. 

“Hey babe,” she grinned, fingers still working deftly. 

“Hey, Astrid. Tuff. Sooo, what’s going on?”

“You wouldn’t want to know,” Astrid sang. “Grab a strand and do what I do, it’s kind of relaxing.” 

Hiccup glanced again at Tuff, who was leaning his back against Astrid’s legs, eyes half-closed in contentment and gently stroking Chicken’s feathers as the bird snoozed in his lap. He shrugged and picked up a thick strand of blond hair, plaiting it like Astrid was doing. She wove a large bead in her current section. 

“Think of the bright side,” she remarked to Tuffnut. “At least Fishlegs hasn’t done it.” 

“Like I would have felt his,” Tuff snorted, eyes still closed. “He tends to sneak up on me with surprise poetry instead. Not half as bad as Snotlout’s 'poetry’.”

“More like a sonnet, I bet.”

“Actually, about the size of a pun.” 

“Ouch!” Astrid laughed, tying another knot. 

Wisely, Hiccup just didn’t ask.


	2. Under the Missing Toe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eret learns about a "New" Snoggletog tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve ever watched the deleted scene from “Gift of the Nightfury” this will make even more sense. 
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=E6ra5SDkcg0

He’d traveled the world, encountered many cultures, but there was no doubt about it … Berk won hands down for the strangest name for a winter holiday. 

Snoggletog was odd but certainly not unenjoyable. So far there were kids running around in costumes roaring at dragons, and people sneaking from house to house to hide gifts. The latter was a rather accidentally invented tradition, a very embarrassed-looking Astrid had told him. (Okay, that was a story she wasn't going to get away without telling!)

He was finding it all oddly charming until Ruffnut ran into him - literally and without apology, as she was wont to do since she’d met him. 

"Hey, gorgeous. Wanna play a game?"

"Uh, not particularly, no." Eret stepped back and she stepped forward, flirting him into a literal corner. 

"Come on, get in the spirit! We should play Missing Toe." 

Eret wrinkled his nose in polite confusion, eyes darting sideways for a venue of escape. Just as he was about to make a dignified retreat (under the nearest table), the girl pointed up toward the rafters. 

At a dismembered body part, bedecked with festive red berries and leaves tied around it. 

“Missing Toe,” Ruffnut explained loudly, over Eret’s horrified head-turning screams, “Is a party game with some guy’s toe that fell off. Frostbite: it happens! Now,” she grinned wolfishly. “Pucker up and kiss me, you son of an Eret.”

“What?! K-Kiss you? Why on earth would that be an even remotely sane thing to do under some putrid, decaying -” 

“Hey!” Ack shouted from the crowd, offended, “That’s my dad’s toe you’re talking about!”

“ … you have my sincerest apologies,” Eret retorted in sarcastic bewilderment, and Ruffnut advanced another step. 

“Not even just a little kiss? It’s a Berk tradition,” she pouted saucily. There was muffled snickering from the Vikings surrounding them, but nobody bothered to correct the young woman. This was more entertaining to watch than the actual tradition anyway; Astrid’s quick fist always got the drop on everyone and it had turned the betting pool rather stagnant.

Eret was practically climbing the wall. “I really don’t think-” 

“MISSING TOE! OOOH, I LOVE Missing Toe!” a voice yelled above the din. Ruff’s face was the picture of resentment as she was suddenly shoved to the side. 

“Don’t waste it on her!” Tuff grinned at the confused and alarmed man before pointing to his own mouth. “Right here! Give it to me HARD, I want to taste blood!”

“ … WHAT?!”

“Aye, give it to him!” someone who sounded suspiciously like Valka yelled. 

“Yeah, it’s tradition, Eret,” Snotlout chimed in, grinning. 

“Go on, right in the mouth! Like the lad asked for!” Gobber winked at him, grinning.

Well, the crowd wasn’t about to let him get away without doing it. Eret growled in exasperation before grabbing the front of Tuffnut’s shirt and yanking the young man forward. 

“Eret, NO!” Ruff wailed. 

“Eret, YES!” Fishlegs cheered, happy no-one was kissing his crush. 

“MMRRRWHHT!?!” Tuff flailed as he felt his lips kissed so hard they actually kind of hurt. Eret dropped him and stalked away, face reddening as multiple people clapped him on the back. 

Others, like Snotlout and Gobber, were fairly crying with laughter and holding each other upright as the luckless Tuff sat up, dazed and breathless. Maybe even a little smitten.

“I think I liked that …”

“You ruin EVERYTHING!” Ruff yelled, stomping toward him. 

“Hey sis, I can totally see why you - OWWWWW! OWOWOWOW!"

Eret shook his head and accepted the offered cup of mead from a friendly hand. He couldn’t seem to stop the fire raging in his cheeks. “Berkians are freaking weird,” he muttered into his drink, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he thought that.


	3. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup and Astrid share a moment at the forge. With someone else.

Gobber used to say that the best part of the early morning light was the way it gleamed and reflected on all the weapons hung up at the forge. Hiccup had to disagree; it was definitely the way a certain warrior’s hair captured those beams, spinning it into strands of shining gold. He used to dream about touching it for years, and now all he had to do was reach out his hand. It might get him a weird look, though in comparison to the punch he might have gotten much earlier, weird looks were very welcome.

Astrid was sitting on one of the cluttered benches, next to a pile of cured sheepskins. Between that and all the dented, scratched pots and pans and swords laying around waiting to be mended, Gobber’s forge didn’t have much seating room.

“You let it all mound up on you again, Hiccup,” Astrid said, examining a shield. “This is worse than when you spent all that time on your flaming sword. You were making up work for weeks.”

She didn’t sound pleased. Hiccup let the grinding wheel stop, blowing on the edge of her axe to remove particles. “I know, but hey - at least you don’t have to wait in line, right?”

“Hiccup, you’ve got to find a balance somewhere. I know it’s important to discover as much as we can about dragons, but … don’t forget about us.”

Astrid sounded worse than exasperated all of a sudden. She sounded upset. Hiccup put down her axe and came over to sit by her - as close as he could manage around the mess on the bench. “Hey, hey … I have no intention of forgetting anyone,” he said gently. Astrid didn’t look at him.

Toothless rumbled at him from the corner where he was curled up, as though telling him he had to do better than that. Hiccup sighed. “Okay, you’re right. I’ve been spending a lot more time than I probably should flying off exploring.”

“And?”

“Ah … so much time that when I come back, I usually have a few boatloads of work to catch up on …”

“And?”

“Aaaand because of that, less time to spend with my amazing, badass, warrior girlfriend?”

“Mmm, better. Go on."

“Whom I fully intend to take on the most romantic flight of her life later tonight?”

“Hmph. Very good.” Astrid smirked. “I’ve sure got you trained, huh?”

“Yeah, oh sure, you’ve trained the dragon trainer. Most impressive, Miss Hofferson,” Hiccup teased lightly. Astrid laughed and leaned in for a kiss over the slightly shifting pile of skins, Hiccup doing the same.

What his lips met was decidedly not Astrid’s face.

He opened his eyes and recoiled, falling off the bench and Astrid yelled in a panic, delivering a swift punch to the recipient of her own wayward kiss.

“OWOWOWOW!!!”

“Tuffnut, what the hell?!” she spat, wiping her mouth. The twin looked just as shell-shocked as either of them.

“Indeed, what the hell - all I did was sit up, I didn’t ask for you two to kiss me awake!” he complained, massaging his chest where Astrid had likely bruised him. He looked from Hiccup to Astrid, suspiciously. “Wait. Are you cheating on each other?” Tuffnut looked aghast and strangely flattered.

“No, we are not - what are you doing sleeping here?” Hiccup asked, mystified.

“Oh, that. Snotlout decided he was going to serenade my sister all night. Hookfang started howling because it was so bad. Actually no, I think he was helping. Then Fishlegs came by and he wanted to read poetry he’d written, but Snotlout wouldn’t stop singing, so ‘Legs started shouting his poetry as loud as he could, which made Snotlout -” Tuffnut took a deep suffering breath, “SING EVEN LOUDER!"

“So that’s what that noise was,” Astrid muttered. “I thought Gothi’s Terrors were tormenting the livestock again.”

Hiccup was massaging his temples. “I completely sympathize, Tuff, but nobody’s singing or reading poetry anymore, so maybe you should just go home now?”

“Ugh, maybe I should leave Berk. Then I won’t have to deal with any nieces or nephews named Ruffsnot or Legnut or whatever,” he grumbled, fighting his way out of the mound. He stalked off, still muttering a litany of possible unappealing names for Ruff’s future children.

Astrid looked after him, shaking her head. “You know I almost feel sorry for the twins.”

“Yeah me too," Hiccup admitted. “I should make them some earplugs.”

“You do that. But I expect to see you tonight at sunset, Dragon Master,” Astrid smirked at him. This time, her lips met his and Hiccup leaned into the kiss, happier than a Terror in a sunbeam.

“I wouldn’t dream of being late,” he grinned and watched the sunlight make her hair gleam as she walked away.


	4. A Loss That Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stoick's death leaves holes in many hearts, some with surprising depths.

“We’re home,” Tuff said, dropping his gear next to the door. Ruff walked past him, not even bothering to speak to the man slouched before the fire. He merely grunted at Tuffnut’s words, reaching over for another log to throw into the hearth. 

Tuff came over to face him, the same impassive and distant expression on his father’s face didn’t dissuade him any. He sat on the stone, letting the fire attempt to warm away the despair in his aching shoulders and neck. “We got Drago. Well, Toothless and Hiccup got him anyway. Everything’s gonna be alright now. Everyone’s safe.” 

Another grunt. His father glanced at him irritably, but it was a glance and Tuff felt almost elated by the attention until the man motioned to his empty cup. He handed it to Tuffnut who hesitantly took it and filled it up, like a good son, and handed it back to his father. 

The man drank deeply, eyes no longer on his son but staring into the fire as though it held all the wisdom of Odin. Or maybe something he’d care more about, like all the mead in Valhalla. 

“Ruffnut’s going to marry three people,” Tuff told him. “Snotlout and Fishlegs, and this other guy. He’s a pirate or something. Has all these tattoos and scars. He’ll probably end up kidnapping her.” 

Not even a blink of concern. And it had always been that way, hadn’t it? Oh it was great when they were younger and their father just yelled for quiet whenever their mother scolded them for their antics. Their father’s angry bellowing at their mother got them out of a lot of ear twisting; she had eventually given up on correcting their wild ways. 

But Stoick had not. He’d yelled at them, punished them, angrily asked what they were thinking whenever they risked their lives. Tuff’s father didn’t even glare in disappointment when they were brought home in disgrace and handed over to their sullen, silent mother. 

Always staring into the damn fire. Always drinking, or eating, just letting bits of meat and bread fall into his beard and rot there, until their mother combed it out for him. 

Tuff’s heart was branded with guilt over all the times he’d wished Stoick was their father, instead of this silent brooding shadow. He grit his teeth, not willing just now to give up. 

Stoick was gone. 

His father was here now.

“Dad,” Tuff said, desperately. Deep down he knew it was useless. He knew their father didn’t care whether they risked life and limb or destroyed property, but it would never stop him from trying. He debated how to best get a reaction, but he knew anything he could possibly say wouldn’t matter. 

The man didn’t care. Not like Stoick had, and the gap he’d left was huge and suddenly too much. A wave of grief hit Tuff in the chest and he bowed his head in defeat, eyes filling with tears. 

He let them fall, aware of only the fire’s dull crackle and the sound of mead pouring down his father’s throat.

It felt like hours later when a slender calloused hand gripped his shoulder. 

“Come on,” said his twin. “Come outside before you start to smell like him.” 

Tuffnut hitched painfully; his sister’s disdain for their father had come much earlier than his ever would. It hurt to hear, but her hands were gentle as she pulled him to his feet and led him away. 

Ruffnut didn’t ask him why he’d tried. He knew she understood, especially now. Once she got him to sit on the porch of the chicken coop, her fingers found the knots in his shoulders and neck, deftly massaging them away. She twiddled with his hair, braiding and unbraiding until the sound of his grief had subsided into tired silence.

“I miss him too,” she said finally, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Tuffnut knew she didn’t mean their own father. He turned to put an arm around her shoulders and together, they watched the windows of their home remain dark, even as night fell around them.


	5. It's A Birthmark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is pain and there is art. Dagur enjoys inflicting both on people.

“What are you doing?"

The boy was inches from Dagur’s elbow as he worked, steadily tapping the needle of blue ink under the skin of his forearm. Dagur scoffed in annoyance, but answered him anyway.

"It’s called a tattoo. You Berkians are so lame, you probably couldn’t handle one.”

“Does it hurt?” The excited fascination in Tuffnut’s voice was noticeable. The Thorston kids were weird. Dagur smirked.

“Seriously painful. Most grown men pass right out and wake up crying for their mothers.”

“Hah. I want to see that. You should sneak up on people and give them out.”

Dagur paused. The old men were in the next room, talking about that idiotic treaty. And he’d stayed out of trouble long enough. His sudden grin was all teeth. “You’re right. I should."

The Berserker boy moved fast, and suddenly Tuffnut’s ribs were slammed across Dagur’s thighs, his arm pinned behind his back. He yanked the boy’s tunic up, exposing his lightly freckled flank. Tuffnut was catching his breath, but apparently too stunned to struggle yet.

"Now what should I do, hmm? Something appropriate to Berk. How about a sheep?”

It wasn’t really a question meant to be answered; usually this was where the pleading would start. However, Tuffnut wasn’t proving to be a usual victim. “Oooh, ooh, a dragon! Make it a dragon!”

Dagur’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Huh. Well, it wasn’t like the Thorston boy really even knew what was coming, so his fearlessness wasn’t that impressive.

“Okay. A tiny dragon. If you start kicking and screaming, it’ll turn into a chicken,” he warned. Either way, it would probably look more like a smudge with wings; Dagur was confident Tuffnut would start crying and squirming once the needle met its mark. Not that he was going to let him up if he did.

Dagur roughly forced Tuff to lay more on his side, forcing him into an arc. The skin needed to be taut for this. He was not disappointed by the sound Tuffnut made as the makeshift needle plunged into the skin near his ribs. A whimper, followed by a short high pitched squeal, and a little kick. Dagur clamped down on Tuff’s arm even tighter. “Aw, too much?” he sneered.

“I’m - I’m kind of ticklish there, can you move a little more left?” came the answered squeak.

“. . . Can I what?”

“Yeah seriously, super ticklish right there where your knuckles are brushing. Left just an inch is golden,” Tuff managed.

Dagur jabbed again, so confused he forgot to be extra vicious, and was at least rewarded with another deliciously pained whimper. Good, he hadn’t lost his touch. He worked swiftly, not allowing any mercy, simply tattooing the outline of a passable dragon, giving the tail an extra curl, and then rapidly filling in the space. It was probably too big for someone Tuff’s age to start with, but Dagur gave no quarter.

He instead thoroughly enjoyed the low open-throated keens coming from the youth, the way Tuff’s boots dragged and slid across the wooden floorboards as an outlet for his pain, sweat and blood on his skin, the crescents Tuff’s nails made in his own palm. These were all hallmarks of the agony Dagur must be causing him right now, and while they were quieter than the Berserker normally enjoyed, it at least meant the adults were none the wiser to what was going on out here.

Finally, too soon really, Dagur had filled in the shape with ink. He wiped the blood off with a clean rag, able to feel Tuff’s body trembling against his thighs. The boy breathed unevenly, hot puffs of air hitting his leg and it took him a long time to bring himself to stand. There were tear tracks running down his face, but he hadn’t screamed to be let up and he also hadn’t passed out.

Dagur felt oddly proud of him. So proud in fact that he found himself telling the glassy eyed boy how to care for the tattoo so it didn’t get infected. “And whatever you do, don’t scratch it. Because it will itch,” he cautioned, applying a thick bandage to the area.

Tuff’s hand froze on the way to his side. “Got it,” he rasped, and self consciously wiped at his eyes.

Dagur almost ruffled his hair. But he regained self control swiftly enough, and sent the boy off with a casual boot to the rear. “Good, now buzz off. And don’t tell anyone you have a tattoo. Pretty sure your mom will have a yak.”

Tuffnut grinned back at him and walked off with a slight bounce in his step. Freaking weirdo, Dagur thought, although he allowed himself a fond smirk as he turned back to his own inking.


	6. Bruised Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup offers emotional support for a broken heart, despite his own.

Hiccup chuckled fondly as he watched Toothless pounce at leafy shadows in the encroaching dusk. The Night Fury’s playful antics ceased abruptly as a noise was heard not too far off where they walked. Ears tilted forward, Toothless curiously made his way over to a grove of trees and Hiccup followed, wanting to make sure the dragon didn’t find trouble.

A hen’s sharp cluck and fluttering wings made the both of them jump, Toothless side-hopping away like a startled cat. His ears flattened in exasperation when he recognized Chicken. As both dragon and Hiccup knew, where there was Chicken, the male Thorston twin wasn’t far behind.

While Toothless grumbled and flopped down among the fall leaves, Hiccup grinned and moved closer to the trees. “Tuff? You there?”

The twin occasionally drove Hiccup up a wall, it was true, but then he drove everyone on Berk crazy sooner or later. The long summer at Dragons Edge had given Hiccup some insight as to why he cared so intently about what Tuff thought about him - both in the past and present.

It had been subtle at first, like the time he’d spend all night working on a new tail for Toothless one wintry evening, just because of a certain someone’s snarky comment. Lately though, he’d “thought about what Tuffnut said” many other times, more than he’d ever really mentioned to Astrid. Now he finally understood.

Tuff was here, without his sister, back pressed up against a tree and face half-hidden in shadow. Maybe now Hiccup could screw up enough courage to talk about it, to see where Tuffnut stood on the subject. As soon as the scant moonlight revealed the rest of Tuffnut’s expression, Hiccup felt a pang in his chest. Right now was definitely not the time for any such discussion.

“What’s wrong?” Hiccup asked, and he hoped it was the earnest concern in his tone that chased away the beginnings of a sneer from the other boy’s countenance. Hiccup *knew* something was wrong. Tuff usually looked like he wanted to punch something when he was angry, but he’d never before looked like he wanted to punch something and cry.

“Snotlout,” Tuffnut snapped out, as though the name itself was poison. He took a breath, let it out in a long controlled hiss between his teeth. “Snotlout is what’s wrong.”

Hiccup tried to think of how someone like Snotlout Jorgenson could possibly get under Tuffnut’s skin this bad, but he was spared the asking as Tuffnut continued.

“He lied to me. Acted like he wanted to be my friend - MY friend. Not OUR friend, but mine. Listened to me, tried to find a common interest, helped me out with the boar pit.” Tuffnut swallowed thickly and Hiccup nodded, uneasy at where this was going.

Snotlout and Tuff *had* been hanging around each other a little more the past couple days, but he’d suspected it was all leading up to an epic prank of some sort. Snotlout had always been one of the twins’ favorite targets.

“He was nice to Chicken. He …” Tuffnut’s eyes closed briefly, pale lashes keeping back sudden moisture. “He asked if he could learn the ways of Loki. And he sounded genuine, like he *meant* what he said about offering to help me with my devotions. As if everything else wasn’t bad enough, he lied about that. And do you know why?”

Hiccup shook his head, not able to recall a time when he’d seen Tuffnut so emotionally crushed. Part of Hiccup was thrilled Tuff was actually talking with him instead of just bantering, the other yearned to know what to say to comfort him.

“Snotlout - and Fishlegs - both like my sister. I heard them arguing about who had a better chance with her. Fishlegs was saying he’d asked girls for advice, and Snotlout … He said he had an ‘in’ with her brother.”

Hiccup’s heart sank like a stone as Tuff brokenly continued. “I wasn’t his friend. Im just a field manual, a cheat code, or whatever the hell else you call a person you intend to use and toss away when you’re done.” Tuff spat. His voice was suspiciously thick and Hiccup pretended not to see him wipe his eyes. A gentle sad trill sounded from Tuffnut’s other side and Hiccup watched as the Night Fury - barely visible in the dark - nuzzled his head under Tuff’s arm.

“I liked him.” Tuff muttered, absently stroking Toothless’ scales. Hiccup felt himself possessed with a sudden envy, until the meaning of those words hit him, sucking his breath away. “I actually … really liked Snotlout. The worst part is … I still kinda do.”

They sat in silence, both hurting, Hiccup for different and yet similar reasons. He decided to focus his pain into anger at Snotlout. Of all the thoughtlessly cruel things the boy had ever said or done, this took the top shelf.

“Do you want me to kill him?” Hiccup asked flatly in all seriousness and too late his mind screamed TALK TO - not KILL, TALK TO - we are REASONABLE VIKINGS for Thor’s sake!

Tuffnut stared at him in honest shock before grinning brightly through his tears in a way that made Hiccup’s heart flutter. “I thought at best you’d offer to give him a verbal lashing and some nasty chores. But cold blooded murder? You DO care!” He threw his arms around Hiccup’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

Hiccup’s brain short circuited and he hugged back, muttering some form of abashed denial.

“Oh, I know you won’t actually kill him, but the fact you considered it even for a moment … it really means a lot to me that you actually got mad enough on my behalf.” There was nothing to say, only nod as Tuff hurriedly dried his face with Chicken’s ‘help’. He looked better than he had before; though still shaky and eyes overly bright, Tuff now sported a shadow of his usual smirk.

“He’ll get his due later anyway. Especially since my sister is nowhere near interested in either of them. She still has her hopes set on you.”

Tuff gave him a friendly nudge to the ribs and Hiccup laughed weakly. “Ah hah hah, yaaaay.” Toothless warbled, rolling his eyes in agreement.

With the mood lifted somewhat, they walked back to the outpost, each keeping to his own thoughts. Hiccup rested a hand lightly on his dragon friend’s back, trying to piece back together his shattered hopes. There was still time, at least. Astrid knew and had agreed to be his beard, so long as he did the same courtesy for her and Heather.

Who knew, maybe Tuff would realize someday exactly how much he was cared for and by whom. Right now, Hiccup could only wait and see.


	7. Siren Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A day at the beach for a pairing of your choosing. 200 words or less.

It wasn’t every day that a seasoned trickster got what was coming to him. Tuff was seconds from dumping the bucket of fish guts upon his unsuspecting prey, when the man unexpectedly opened his mouth to sing.

The tune was catchy; some shanty about mermaids luring sailors off the boats and chewing them up alive. Tuff was entranced as always when it came to a well sung ballad and even more so by the deep and stunningly pleasant quality of Eret’s voice.

Such was his enjoyment that Tuff did not watch his balance and - after much panicked flailing - landed ass over kettle in a heap of sand and entrails. Eret’s surprised laughter turned the boy’s face red much longer than it should have, but he took some solace in the offered hand.

His sister could have the biceps, Tuff reasoned later, so long as the songs belonged to him.


	8. "Are You Sure You Know What You're Doing?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuffnut tries to seduce Eret. It doesn't quite go as planned.

Eret shivered as he waited outside the armory in the dark and frigid night air. He was fast growing irritated; Tuffnut said he would be here about twenty minutes ago. The only thing that kept him there, other than the fact he’d been trying to get the oblivious fool’s attention for weeks, was intrigue at the enigma that was Tuffnut Thorston. The boy had gone from not even noticing Eret’s existence to insisting he was going to ‘blow Eret’s mind’ tonight.

The armory was what they agreed upon for a meeting place, since apparently ( in Tuff’s own words) the presence of weaponry turned the boy into a weapon himself. ‘The world’s most deadly weapon’ in fact, which wasn’t exactly an enticing or comfortable thing to hear when referring to a tryst. But it certainly was amusing. Eret had tried very valiantly not to laugh and only mostly succeeded. Maybe his mirth had scared the boy off? That or this was nothing more than a prank.

Eret was relieved to notice a slight blond figure creeping over the top of the hill. He’d decided to show up after all, then. 

“Sorry,” Tuff panted, half an hour after the appointed time. “You would not believe how hard it is to shake Fishlegs when he wants to bond with his ‘future brother-in-law’.”

Did that let Tuff off the hook? Hell no. “Fishlegs, eh? So that’s what you were doing all this time. Took you a while.”

Tuff punched his arm. “I’m gonna pretend I have no idea what you’re alluding to because I don’t need the mental image.” He preceded him inside the dark building. “Come on, I got plans for you.” Exasperated and a little curious, Eret followed him inside. 

“I hope whatever you’re planning was worth waiting for you out in the cold.” 

“Yeah, it will be,” Tuff said distractedly. He was looking anywhere but directly at Eret. He took a breath as though gathering his nerve. Then he turned around and sprung at Eret violently.

Years of dragon-trapping and dodging blasts of fire and plasma meant that Eret simply stepped aside and let Tuffnut crash into a stand of crossbows, sending them all swinging and clattering wildly. Tuff had fallen into an undignified cursing heap and sat up dizzily, righting his helmet..

“What was that?” Eret asked, once all the noise died down. 

“You weren’t supposed to move!” Tuff hissed back, hand over his bleeding mouth. He’d apparently accidentally made out with the wooden bar instead of Eret. The former trapper stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing. 

“When you say ‘deadly weapon’, does that actually mean none of your lovers survive the night?” he managed, wiping his eyes. 

“Shut up! It would have worked if … if you’d just stayed still!” Tuff snapped. He scowled, then looked away, humiliated. “It’s what Astrid told me to do.”

“Astrid?! She told you to do this?”

“No, not exactly. Well, she told me I needed to be aggressive.” Tuffnut could not look at him, and Eret stopped laughing, feeling bad. “She said I needed to go after you and I’ve never felt this way about a guy, so I asked her what she would do and she said she’d just … go for it and kiss him. I couldn’t exactly do it in front of everyone. S-So I asked you to meet me here. I thought the weapons would give me courage or something.” Tuff bit his lip in the way Eret had always found adorable.

“Do you know why I agreed to meet you?” Eret asked. Tuff looked at him finally, surprised the man was still there and hadn’t just walked out. “I met you because I’m interested already. I like you. Thought you’d finally noticed.”

Tuff’s face was unreadable in the dark, but Eret knew it was reddening. “Heh. So, I didn’t have to make an idiot out of myself to get your attention?”

“No. You already had it.”

Eret reached down and lifted him up to his feet before pulling Tuff into a hard kiss. He punctuated it with a meaningful nibble on Tuff’s bloody lip. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” 

“Nah. I kind of like it,” Tuff grinned. “If we do this again, I probably won’t tackle you. Or at least I won’t miss.”

Eret just laughed and kissed him again.


	9. From Whence You Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Challenge: "I waited a week for the love of my life, before saying 'Fuck it!' and moving on."

He stared at the fog creeping through the trees, as though it was to blame for everything. Within minutes, the sun would set and it would be too dark to search any longer. 

Tuff turned and walked back to his makeshift camp, figuring he may as well start a fire for the night. Like all the previous nights, he nibbled listlessly at his provisions - having cobbled together a meager dinner of bread, yak cheese, and an apple. It was a lonely meal, far from the ones they'd all used to have on this island when he and his friends were all together.

They'd respected his decision to stay behind and wait after it happened. Tuff was grateful for that, and he regretted turning down offers for someone to stay with him. The truth was he'd wanted to be alone at the time. 

It had been seven days and his face still smarted from their last interaction, a physical altercation that had left him both bleeding and completely stunned. Words had been said that Tuff would give anything to take back. He reached up and touched the healing scabs on his face, one beneath his eye and the other along his cheek. Not deep enough to leave scars but they smarted if he pressed too hard. 

Ruff was probably going to show up with their dragon tomorrow morning, with the intent to bodily drag him home. It wasn't that she didn't understand - Ruffnut knew exactly what this was doing to her brother. The girl often masked her concern with annoyance and rough handling; it was just her way.

Tuffnut wished he knew what had caused the fight in the first place. Really it was the threat of no closure that was clenching his heart in a vise.

He put away his unfinished dinner and stretched out on his side, mind cruelly reminding him of nights when they would lie together, side by side. They would look at the stars and Tuff would playfully suggest they had to cling to the earth lest they fell into the night sky. 

Wistfulness was slowly replaced with dull aching anger. Without a care, someone had blown out of his life just as easily as they'd breezed into it. That was just . . . you didn't DO that to a person! Tuff grit his teeth and pulled the edge of the blanket over his face to stifle the ugly noises trying to slip out. 

It was an hour or so before he was numb and too exhausted to feel anything but thirst. Tuffnut dragged over the water-skin and drank from it deeply. Carelessly he set it aside and laid back down. 

Sometimes there was nothing to do but your best, and when your best wasn't enough then it was time to try something new. When Ruff came tomorrow, he'd leave with her, and he would not come back to this island ever again.

Whether they wanted it this way or not, Chicken would be on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In all seriousness though, if Tuff has to leave behind Chicken at the end of RTTE for any reason, I will bawl like a lost toddler in a haunted maze.)


	10. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eret finds there is more to wooing a dragon rider than previously anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first Tuff/Eret fic I ever wrote. Some parts I like, some parts make me roll my eyes. But it's still a fun read, so I hope you enjoy it!

There had been a lot of intensive labor done in the village that week. Stoick’s statue was nearly completed with the help of Bucket’s artistic endeavors and a great portion of ice had been melted down or chipped off to fall into the ocean. Everyone was exhausted and emotionally fatigued and yet the work seemed to have a healing effect on the people of Berk.

Yet as much as there was left to do, it was met with unspoken agreement that tonight was to be a celebration - a night of drink, song, reminiscing, story-telling and laughter.

The Great Hall was awash with firelight, torches lining the wall and the main firepit roaring. There were heaps of mutton, chicken, roasted boar, smoked eel, fresh braided bread, cheese and apples - enough for every plate (and more than enough mead for every horn.)

At one table, Ruffnut bit into an apple, licking the juice off her wrist in a way that made Snotlout and Fishlegs break into a cold sweat. Tuffnut rolled his eyes and took a bite out of a leg of mutton. He really didn’t understand the fuss about his sister. Or any girl really.

To his own personal horror, Snotlout stood up on the bench and cleared his throat. Ruffnut beamed up at him, and Tuffnut wished he could crawl into the earth or turn invisible, knowing exactly what was coming. Indeed, the rest of the Great Hall’s murmuring dwindled - everyone loved a Boasting Song. It was tradition; the first of many formal announcements of a man’s attraction to a woman. They were endlessly entertaining, whether the woman flatly turned down the man singing his boasts or joined in.

Tuffnut had enjoyed them plenty before, especially when Ruff had turned Snotlout down, but now she watching him sing his Boasts as though he was the only person in the Great Hall and it was … weird. He glanced around the Hall, looking for Eret and wondering if the dragon-trapper had any protests to have lost the attentions of his twin. Much to his relief, Eret was sitting at a far table, looking far more interested in his food than in what was going on. 

He completely missed whatever Snotlout sang; something about fighting a whole army of Beserkers and sinking an armada for her hand in marriage (points to him for knowing she loved carnage and destruction) but the table suddenly rattled with the speed in which Fishlegs stood up to sing his Boasts.

There were exclamations and scattered chuckles; a Boastful Song with two men vying for the same woman’s hand was even more entertaining (since it usually ended in a fight).

Wanting nothing to do with it, Tuffnut dropped his mutton on a plate and took himself and it to the other side of the Hall. He ignored the stares it brought him; generally it was rather offensive to walk away from a table so abruptly. At the same time, staying that close to his sister while she was being courted (and actually enjoying it) was awkward as hell. Nobody stopped him to scold or shoo him back, so they must have at least somewhat understood his plight.

Tuffnut found another seat on the edge, next to Mulch. The man paid him no mind, busy explaining to Bucket what Fishlegs had just sung. It had involved a lot of technical terms and though Ruff looked confused, she was petting his arm and cooing that she liked the way he’d fight a ‘Leviathan Class Ten’ for her. Especially if he lost a lot of blood and limbs while doing it. Fishlegs was looking suddenly green now, much to the amusement of everyone else.

Tuff rolled his eyes, feeling suddenly miserable and left out. He didn’t notice the former dragon-trapper’s gaze on him, nor the slow way Eret got up, sidling toward his new table.

Sullenly he kept eating his meal, wishing everyone in the Great Hall would randomly burst into flames. (He was so depressed, he might actually help put some people out.) Bad enough nobody would ever sing like this for him, but he’d someday be expected to cultivate enough interest in some girl and go through all this for her. And then hope she liked it enough to at least consider not humiliating him. That was it. That was the only option he had, and it sucked.

For a moment, he tried to cheer himself up by imagining Eret singing instead. Even if it was for someone else; the timbre of his voice and what he’d sing would be far more pleasant than the cacophony his friends were making now.

“Mind if I join you?” his smooth voice drawled. Oooh, not bad. Wait …

“What?!” Tuffnut blurted, inhaling in surprise. He choked and started flailing. A strong fist pounded him on the back and he coughed out the meat on the floor. It disappeared in a flash of green scales and teeth.

“Easy. No need to kill yourself just to escape the racket. What is all that about, anyway? I don’t half understand - one minute she is climbing all over me, the next I’m barely noticeable.”

“Dude,” Tuffnut snapped, his weird happiness at Eret’s presence suddenly diminishing. “You are not seriously asking me for advice on how to court my sister?”

“GODS, no!” Eret exclaimed, looking disturbed. “I was wondering how I yet again escaped by the skin of my teeth, and whether I needed to worry still.”

“Huh? Oh. Nah, you’re safe. She’s decided on either of them. Or both. I don’t care, whatever. You’re off the hook, trust me.”

“Ah, good. Very good.” Eret was fidgeting. He picked up a fork, put it down, then rolled it between his fingers. “So, when are you going to sing?”

Tuffnut almost choked on his food again. “Wha –? Uuggghhh! She’s my sister!”

“No, no, no! You misunderstand - I meant for your girl? Surely a lad as handsome as you has a girl?”

“Hah! Nope, not interested, with a capital 'I’. Or do I mean 'N’? Both,” he decided.

Eret was at a loss for words. After a long moment, staring at Tuffnut, he cleared his throat. “If I may ask … that is, if you are not interested in girls … ?”

“Yeah, I’m not. I don’t care what my parents or anyone else says; if I go to even half the trouble Snot and Legs are going, it’s not gonna be over a female.”

Tuff had little time to wonder why Eret was staring so intently; a wave of cheers and applause suffocated all possible means of conversation. The Boasting Song had predictably ended with Fishlegs tackling Snotlout off the bench. Ruff was cheering loudly, egging both of them on as they rolled under tables, Terrors shrieking and scampering out of the way.

He watched them for a while, feeling unexpectedly warm and restless. Maybe it was the fighting; he suddenly wanted to fight, to tackle someone to the ground and trade blows. Wired, Tuffnut felt a hand on his arm and very nearly took a swing at the owner. Eret’s eyes looked weird in the firelight; and there was an odd tone to his voice. “Outside,” he muttered. “I wish to talk and it’s too loud in here.”

Tuffnut almost leaped from the bench to follow him, needing some air and space himself from the revelry. Once they were out under the stars, Eret turned abruptly to face him.

“Would you be object terribly if a man was interested in you?” he asked bluntly. Tuffnut stared, then backed up as Eret moved in, with a charming smile. “Even a man as handsome as myself?”

His vanity was as appealing as Snotlout’s wasn’t. Tuffnut was completely blindsided; of all the reasons Eret had wanted to go outside, this had not registered as a possibility.

Yes, he was supposed to say. Yes, he would 'object terribly’, involving his fist through the other man’s teeth. Because that’s what any man was expected to say to such a question. However, Tuffnut couldn’t bring himself to say it, nor could he raise a fist.

Eret moved in closer and Tuffnut could see every bead of sweat clustered at his brow, could smell his hair. He smelled sharp, like the ocean. Like the salted fish he’d once used to bait dragon traps with. Realization flooded him then; why it had driven him crazy to watch Ruffnut fawn and flirt with Eret. Why he’d been so relieved when Eret had rejected and ignored everything she threw at him.

Nevertheless, before Eret’s mouth could so much as brush his own, Tuffnut regained enough control to put up his hands between them. “Not so fast.”

Looking disappointed, Eret pulled back. “Listen, I’ve had my eyes on you for longer than you think,” he almost pleaded. “Why do you think I undid your bonds first on Drago’s ship?”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Tuff said, though his heart did a little skip and jump at that knowledge. “But  
even if I was interested, and I’m not saying I’m not, no self-respecting Viking would just kiss someone who’s never so much as whistled a tune at them.”

“You’re not serious.” 

“Deadly serious. This face? More serious-er than any serious face I’ve made. If you’re serious, then you’ll court me like the Hooligan I am.” 

“O-kay …” Eret muttered awkwardly. 

He wasn’t going to. Tuff knew with a certainty that nobody as proud as Eret would ever sink so low; he could have any pick of girls (or boys) on Berk without having to resort to such a thing. Part of him wanted to take it back, but there was more stubbornness in him than a Loki tree had bark beetles so he firmly shut his mouth and turned away. 

A cheer erupted from the Great Hall, still audible outside. Warmth poured out from the crack between the doors, a sharp contrast to the chilled air they were standing in. Tuff shivered in the silence. 

“Ah,” Eret said, softly, as though understanding something. Tuffnut figured it meant he was going to give up and walk away now. Most sensible people would. He almost did himself, but then a sound stopped him cold. 

The man’s voice was just as amazing as he’d imagined it would be. Tuffnut licked suddenly dry lips, trying to focus on the words. He wanted to remember them, even as Eret stumbled over them endearingly. 

The trapper wasn’t familiar with half of Berk’s customs, yet he was willing to do a decent try at this one. Boasting Songs weren’t easy, you had to sing from the heart what came to mind, and fast. Eret was already running out of words and Tuffnut didn’t have to wait too long to cut in. 

When they both came up for air, Tuff couldn’t help but tease him just a little. 

“You realize if you meant all that, Ruffnut’s gonna be your future sister-in-law?” 

Eret groaned, but didn’t let him go.


	11. Instability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuffnut makes an unwise decision when cornered by an enemy.
> 
> Prompt Challenge ~ "I’m going to keep these as a souvenir. Unless, you want to trade them with something better.”

Not many things could make Tuffnut Thorston cower away from a fight, but one of the few exceptions stood in front of him, grinning and expertly twirling the horned blade in his fingers. Below Tuff's heels was the brittle cliff's edge, harsh wind at his back. His sister had gotten away at least, but he had been luckless. 

"So, open to thoughts about where my dear brother could have taken off to. I mean, I came all the way over here to pay him a visit. Doesn't he want to see me?"

Dagur's expression was the epitome of hurt feelings, but Tuffnut knew better. 

"I have no ideas actually," Tuff replied, wishing he could take another step back. It was a long and lethal fall if he gave into that urge. "Maybe he went to your ship to visit you?" 

"Maybe," Dagur said, looking amused. Almost friendly. Then his face contorted and Tuff had nowhere to run as Dagur rapidly closed the distance between them. His jaw was held painfully in the deranged chieftain's grip, the only thing that had saved him from flinching backwards to his death. Tuff whimpered nervously as the gleaming silver blade rested just beneath his left eye. 

"You know one of the things I always liked about you, Tuffnut? Your eyes are so beautifully expressive; even now as they widen from terror. Such a pretty shade of blue. I believe I'll take them as a cherished memory of our time together. Unless you have something better to give me?"

It had been the same when he'd first encountered Dagur entirely on his own. A poem or his legs. Tuff had thought fast then, and he'd have to think fast now. As usual, he went with the first thing that popped into his head, trusting to Loki that it would help him. 

Dagur made a startled noise and nearly dropped the knife as Tuff's lips crashed against his. It jerked slightly, making a shallow cut across his cheekbone. A split second later and Dagur was dominating the kiss, more of an attempt to control the situation than anything else. 

An arm snaked around Tuff's waist and he was spun away from the ledge. Dagur delivered a bruising bite to his lips - a warning or maybe a dark promise - before shoving him into the arms of two other Beserkers. "Watch him," Dagur ordered curtly. He looked Tuff over for a long uncomfortable minute before grinning, sharp toothed. 

"Later," he hissed, sheathing the knife. Dagur went ahead, barking for his men to follow. Tuff did not resist as he was marched along, heart beating in his ears. 

In retrospect, maybe the first idea wasn't always the best.


	12. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuff gives Astrid some advice about Ruffnut.

“Would you just hold still?”

Astrid grabbed Tuff’s hand, pulling his arm straight so she could see the wound better. He started to wrench it back, but went still and dejected at the sharp look she gave him.

“Honestly, knife throwing? You don’t have any proper training - how did you two think that would go?” She scolded, dragging over a bucket of clean water.

“You’re the one who said we had to work on our weapons skills and our aim.” Tuffnut shot back. “Knife throwing is the only one we’re even slightly good at. Axes are too heavy - you’ve seen Ruff’s noodle arms.”

Astrid looked around, then leaned down a little. “Good thing your sister’s out gathering firewood with Fishlegs. Otherwise she’d have heard that.”

Tuffnut scoffed. “You realize that’s something she’s said herself? In comparison to you?”

“What?”

“She always compares herself to you. Mostly unfavorably. It’s what I call her ‘Astrid Complex’.” Tuff looked down at his arm and the jagged slice his sister’s bad aim had taken out of it. “Ruff was actually all for trying out axes today, but I managed to talk her down to knives. That’s why you’re not dressing a stump right now.”

Astrid pressed a cloth down over the wound to stop the bleeding. She was quiet for a long moment. “Why does she hate me, and then try to be exactly like me?”

“Uh, she’s not trying to be like you. She’s trying to be good at something. Doesn’t help when people expect her to be as perfect as you are, but also flawlessly beautiful while doing so.”

Only Tuff could call her 'perfect’ or 'flawlessly beautiful’ without it sounding anything like a compliment. 

“Huh,” she said softly, rinsing his arm clean of blood around the clotted gash.

“Why do you think she’s so angry all the time? All she ever hears is people comparing her to you. Unfavorably. I’ve done it. You've done it. So you can see where all the resentment comes from, right?”

Astrid started to say something and faltered, feeling terrible. “I could give her some axe-throwing tips?” she offered lamely. As though Ruff would actually accept the help.

“Nah, that’s only gonna make things worse. Do you actually want her to like you?”

“Well, of course! I’ve tried to be friendly, but she’s always so tense around me. Of course now I can see why …”

Tuff gave her an exasperated look. “You’re always tense around her.” He pointed out. “Because you always overthink everything. Look, I’ll tell you a huge secret. If you want girls, specifically my sister, to start liking you? Then let your hair down and stop giving a crap about what everyone else thinks. It’s a small start, but it’ll do wonders, trust me. For both of you.”

In his face, she saw no indication he was setting up a prank. Then again no-one ever did, but this seemed too bizarre to be suspect. “Let my hair down? Like, actually let it down or is that some kind of metaphor?”

“You know what, Astrid?” He reached up with his good arm, and without warning tugged on the cords binding her tight braid in place. “Both options will work.”

"Tuffnut!” she complained angrily, as an hour of work unraveled, sending waves of pale unruly gold falling down her back. Tuff grinned, and she imagined it was the way Loki himself looked after stealing Sif’s beautiful locks.

Behind them, a bunch of firewood clattered noisily to the floor. Astrid turned to see Ruff standing unabashedly in a pile of it and even now picking her way across the mess towards them. “Your hair … it’s all … let me help with that.”

“See?” Tuff grinned obnoxiously. “Like a moth to a fireworm.”

“How bad is it?” Ruffnut asked, and to Astrid’s shock, she realized the question was directed at her, instead of her brother. Ruff’s fingers were abruptly in her hair, braiding it loosely down her back. It was all a bit much to process, especially taking into account the complete lack of vehemence in Ruffnut’s tone.

“I … uh …”

The smug look on Tuff’s face was unbearable.

“It’ll need sewing,” she lied, relishing his sudden squeak of fear. “Possibly even cauterizing.”

Tuff tried to slide off the seat and make for the door. Astrid pinned him in place with another dangerous look.

“No way!” He yowled in terrified protest. “It’s not that deep, is it?!”

Ruffnut smirked. “Let me know if you need help holding him down.” Tuff gave his sister a look of such devastated betrayal that Astrid couldn’t help relenting.

“Relax,” she laughed. “It just needs a bandage.”

Tuff had been right, she mused later, fingering one of the intricate braids Ruff had gifted her with. She really had been overthinking everything.


	13. I Almost Lost You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurting Ruffnut's brother is a flawless way to get wrecked.

Her brother’s scream alone didn’t freeze her heart - rather, the sudden choking off into painful silence as he crumpled.

Ruff couldn’t see any blood, but she could guess how much agony he was in just by his uneven gasps for air. She knew his incessant sassing would get him into trouble, she had warned him to shut up, but that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was Ryker’s boot raising above her twin’s head, ready to drive home a lesson already too cruelly taught.

Flesh was soft and pliant. Ruffnut’s teeth and nails were anything but.

Even the strongest bull has its tender spots, and she made at least ten vicious new ones. It ended with Ryker screaming curses, slamming the barred door between himself and his prisoners. Ruffnut glowered through the metal grate and spat out a mouthful of blood.

It wasn’t hers.

“Crazy girl,” the man sneered, hand pressed to his bloody ear. “You know, we only need _one_ hostage.” He pointedly looked at Tuff, still curled on the ground.

“Then get back in here,” she challenged quietly. The white hot noise in her head had died down to a red murmur, but the crimson stains on her fingertips could always use a second coat.

Ryker bared his teeth and slunk away.

She watched until he was gone, then knelt by her injured twin. He was already trying to sit up.

“So you’re nuts,” he told her, wincing as she helped him. “And I mean that in the best possible way. Did you swallow all the chunks you took out of him?”

“No.”

It would take some work to get her bantering again, but her twin was very good at calming her down. He had the gift of being perfectly annoying and endearing at the same time.

Ryker had come very close to taking that away from her.

Lucky for him, Grimborn only cracked a couple of ribs - nothing Tuff couldn’t properly heal from once they were rescued. Her brother curled up against her side, a warm and constant pressure that would allow both of them to sleep.

Although first, she’d found a small lump of flesh among the debris on the floor and set it out where Ryker was sure to see it.

The warning message was quite clear.

They didn’t need _both_ hostages? Okay.

Ryker didn’t need _both_ earlobes.


	14. Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup finds a way to feed two hungry kids in his village.

The trolls of Berk were very devious thieves, impressively able to escape any hunt or snare. Even the chief's son had joined in the quest, actually daring to come outside of his hut for once. Hiccup was the smallest, even more so than the twins. 

It came from being born too early, the women said, between themselves. And having so little of his mother's milk, before . . . 

Ah, well, poor little thing. And their poor, dear chief.

The Thorston brats were a few inches taller than him, though much thinner by comparison. They dreamed of something even more exciting than catching trolls : finding out where the creatures hid all their stolen loot. 

It had been a hard winter, thanks to all the dragon raids. The Twins' parents had to kill their only yak and eat it. 

Pack of fools, the women said, quite openly. They could have gone and begged any one of them for food before killing such a valuable animal. At least they'd had the wits to shear the wool off the carcass and sell it first.

Such a wasteful, dishonorable lot. Why did Stoick put up with them? More to the point, why did he let his boy anywhere near those two?

"Why would you guys want to find a bunch of left socks?" Hiccup asked the twins. He had joined them on one of their many forays into the woods, out of curiosity. 

Also because he felt bad people said such nasty things about the twins. They were as mischievous as a pair of ravens, but they looked up and listened to Hiccup. (At the age where being an entire year older was way more impressive than lineage.) 

Hiccup sort of liked being the only 'older person' they minded.

"Socks aren't the only thing they steal, you know," the girl said. Ruff was more outspoken and sassy than her brother. He'd seen her nearly tear the ears off a boy who'd made her twin brother cry. "They steal food too. Apples from trees, eel pies from windows."

"Bread loaves from ovens, pails of fresh cream and even fish!" Her brother seamlessly added. "So much food, you'd think you'd have walked into a Snoggletogg feast, but without any adults around!"

"The trolls put a spell on it," Ruffnut boasted. "On the food. To keep it from ever going bad. They stole that much food over the years, coming when the dragons do, so they're all unnoticed. So we'll be stealing back even better stuff!"

"What would you do with all that food?" Hiccup wondered. "You can't just sit and eat all of it, they'd catch you!"

"No, we'd bring a sack each home! And then go back as many times as we can, until they hide the trove again!" Ruff explained. "They'll be too busy thinking we're gonna be after their shiny gold and hiding all that to bother with the food."

"We were gonna try and steal both," Tuff said solemnly. "But gold showing up would get us called thieves and everyone would suddenly claim they were missing some. But no-ones gonna try and say we stole all the food. Once a pie is gone, everyone figures it's already eaten."

"That's why it's so brilliant! We'll never go hungry again."

Hiccup nodded after a moment, and promised to help carry a third sack for them when they found the big haul. They joyfully kissed him and made him part of their secret pact before all three were called back home for supper.

They made a valiant effort of searching for all of three days, each night trudging home empty handed and with spirits slightly more lowered than the day before.

After a quiet, thoughtful dinner, Hiccup came up with a sure-fire plan to help the twins along in their quest. Even if it was cheating just a little.

Tuffnut found the basket of apples, bread, mutton and cheese on the window sill and showed it to his sister. A note was tucked in with it, covered in horrible troll writing.

 _We know you're searching_ , it read terribly. _We don't like how close you got last time. Stop looking and we will fill this basket every night, until your parents find better fortune._

Hiccup knew they'd keep searching of course, even if he left food every night for years of his life. He felt a bit guilty, stealing from his father's larder, but it was stocked with as much food as people had unkind things to say about the Thorston clan. 

His father was a chief and a great hunter. When he got older, he was confident he could help Stoick hunt and make up the difference. 

The renewed hope and energy he saw in their eyes the next morning made him smile, as they grabbed his hands and dragged him off on a brand new search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written slightly different than the others. I wanted to give it sort of a fairytale feel. Because I love fairytales way too much, and also it's pretty late here. Hope you enjoyed!


	15. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup has a fever. Tuff finds out he cares more than he thought he might.

There was a reason everyone essentially called the Chief’s son ‘Runt’. Despite the fact he was actually taller than the other riders, Hiccup still caught more colds in winter than the six of them combined. 

Probably all that flying around in the rain or flinging himself off cliffs had something to do with it. Right now, their fearless leader had a fever and couldn’t stop sneezing. He kept drifting in and out of sleep, muttering randomly about the Dragon Eye.  
Toothless groaned in concern as Hiccup slept fitfully, then grumbled curiously when Tuff walked into the boy’s hut. The dragon watched him approach Hiccup’s bed and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Don’t worry, T. Loki doesn’t demand tribute today,” the twin winked at him. Toothless rested his head on his front paws, not taking his eyes off him. Astrid and Fishlegs had gone to fetch Gothi and they wouldn’t be back for hours. Ruff and Lout were figuring out supper, which left Tuffnut in charge of keeping Hiccup company. 

He put a hand on Hiccup’s forehead, mostly just to see how hot his fever really was. The boy moaned and blinked open his eyes. They weren’t focused at all, which probably should be worrying. Tuff started to pull back his hand but paused at a soft protest from Hiccup.

“Don’t. It’s cold,” he murmured hazily. “It feels good.”

It was true that toward the evening, Tuffs skin could get pretty cold. Whenever he and his sister had to share a blanket, the phrase ‘ice jotun’ was thrown about and he usually retaliated by pressing his freezing feet to the backs of her knees, making her squawk and elbow him.

Hesitantly, Tuff again rested his palm over Hiccup’s brow and was rewarded with a long sigh of blissful relief. It was endearing and probably not actually helping break his fever, but it wasn’t like Tuff really knew what to do for that anyway. 

He sat on the bed, switching hands when Hiccup’s burning skin eventually warmed up his palm, feeling oddly protective. Tuff found himself maybe, _possibly_ even worrying a little. 

Tuffnut started talking at some point, telling stories, jokes - anything he could think of to lessen the look of anguished discomfort on Hiccup’s face. 

He was just finishing describing how Loki had once convinced Thor that he was pregnant, when an amused chuckle made him jump. The cool back of his hand was still pressed against Hiccup’s cheek as he turned to see Astrid, Fishlegs and Gothi watching from the doorway. 

“Wow, Tuff, were you taking care of him this whole time?” Astrid asked, looking both touched and impressed. 

His face was the one burning now. “No. I was just … testing out poems on a captive audience.” Just then, Hiccup moaned softly and reached for Tuff’s hand, pulling it up to nuzzle into his palm and hugging his arm firmly in place.

Okay, admittedly, that was cute. Astrid and the others laughing, not so much. 

“I’m sorry, _who’s_ the captive audience?” The girl snickered. Tuff stuck his tongue out at her, irritated. He relented somewhat as Gothi shuffled forward, gently patting his shoulder. 

Tuff moved over slightly to let her examine her charge, and just let Hiccup keep his death hold.

Honestly, it wasn’t the _worst_ way he could spend the next hour or so.


	16. Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many ways to protect someone you care about, and even more ways to show you care.

There were heroes that knew how to fight with weapons, and with the strength in arm that the Gods had given them. There were heroes that were fast on their feet or swift with their punches and kicks, that could find the upper hand in any situation.

Tuff wasn’t any of those types of heroes, but he was good with his words, and he used them now to distract the warrior intent on harming his friend. 

Hiccup was panting, but already standing up to fight, with shield-crossbow loaded. He wouldn’t last a second against Ryker’s brute muscle. Tuff picked up a rock and flung it at the back of Ryker’s head, making the dragon trapper snarl and spin around. 

“Hey, you troll-faced, butt-licking, elf tosser! Try finishing what you started for once!” Tuff taunted. “If you can’t even kill me, how can you hope to kill a chieftain’s son?”

“Very well. This shouldn’t take long.” Ryker drew his swords and advanced at Tuff, only to growl in anger as a handful of dirt and rocks flew in his face. Temporarily blinded, Ryker sliced through the air with his sword in fury. Tuffnut mostly dodged it, ducking under the warrior’s arm to join Hiccup. 

Green eyes regarded him with a mixture of amazement and exasperation as the two of them raced for their dragons at the mouth of the cave. Ryker screamed threats and dark promises, charging after them, but he was too late. Hiccup and the rest of the dragon riders were airborne, and hurriedly flying to safety with their prize - another lens for the Dragon Eye. 

Hiccup shook his head at Tuff’s impish grin.

“I can’t tell if you’re completely insane or just brave.”

“You forgot talented, clever, resourceful –” Tuffnut started listing off. 

Seated on Barf, Ruff naturally chimed in. “Yeah, also irritating, full of himself, rude …” Her eyes went suddenly wide. “Uh, _bleeding_ \- ?!”

“Wait, what?” Tuff realized he really was bleeding - from a gash on his arm. Hiccup and Ruff both flew closer to inspect it. 

“Oh, okay, we’re taking you straight to Gothi, Dragons Edge isn’t safe for us tonight anyway.” Before Tuff could protest, Hiccup yelled to the others who were slightly ahead of them. “Hey, change of plans! Tuff’s wounded, we’re heading to Berk!”

“Come on, H, it’s not that bad -” Tuff protested, as Ruff attempted to wrap a bandage around his upper arm. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“That’s not entirely a good thing, Tuff,” Hiccup said, clearly worried. 

“So how’d that muttonhead hurt himself?” Called Snotlout, zooming overhead. “Picked up a sword the wrong way?” 

Hiccup growled and flew to catch up with him. Both twins could hear him giving Snotlout a heated lecture. Ruff grinned widely at her brother. “You and Hiccup, sittin’ on a Nadder, who kisses first? It really doesn’t matter-” she sang obnoxiously.

“Oh stop it, you,” Tuff grumbled, but he couldn’t quite look his sister in the eye for the whole ride to Berk.


	17. Hunt With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagur is amused by Tuffnut's methods of rabbit hunting.

When Dagur demanded entertainment while his father and Stoick renewed the treaty, he probably hadn’t expected to be given a chore.

Apparently the wild boars were causing havoc in the cabbage fields and he - a guest - was expected to bag the leader. As though he actually was supposed to care about these ridiculous people and their even more ridiculous cabbage fields.

Nevertheless he’d agreed to help, but only because it got him out of watching Oswald bow and scrape to another tribe’s Chieftain. Instead of having to deal with that humiliation, he’d kill the troublesome creature and put every last ounce of his hatred into prolonging its suffering squeal.

The sun had scarce risen before he entered the woods, armed with broadsword and spear. Dagur spent a few moments slashing the air and shouting, to hone his fury into a dangerous focus.

“The boar’s not here, you know.”

Dagur whirled at the unfamiliar voice, fingers suddenly containing a throwing knife. He just barely stopped himself when he saw a familiar scrawny blond eleven-year old standing with him in the clearing. One of the troublemaking Thorston brats.

Not that there was anything wrong with troublemaking, but the twins had proved to be utterly unintimidated by him. It was tiresome, and even a little disheartening.

“What are you doing here? Go play with your sister!” he snapped, not in the mood to waste his ire on the boy.

“I can’t, she’s being punished. Mom’s teaching her how to sew, because she hates sewing. I’m being punished by having to help Dad hunt a boar. Because I hate hunting.”

The Berserker teen looked at Tuffnut as though he was crazy. “Why?”

“Well, we saw this bucket of fish guts just laying around - nobody was going to use it - and we thought we should balance it right above one of the doors to the Great Hall …”

Dagur gave him a dark look. The boy stared back and anyone could tell he’d known that wasn’t the question. Tuff grinned back at him cheekily. Little shit.

“Why do you hate hunting?” he clarified flatly.

“Because I like animals better than people. Especially better than some people I know.”

The boy looked coolly in the direction his father had likely taken through the underbrush. Broken branches and heavy footprints marred the hunting trail - of course the same one Dagur had been considering.

The Berserker boy rolled his eyes in irritation. The man had likely chased his prey even deeper into the forest, and the boar along with it - if the distant crashing and swearing was any indication.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking. He’s an embarrassment, a burden, he’ll never be a real man - too interested in girly things like his sister, that one,” Tuffnut said flippantly. Dagur snorted in amusement; clearly those were words out of the older Thorston’s mouth. He approved of the sass, not that he’d admit it.

“What is he even hunting? He’s making a racket.”

“Eh. He’s not after your boar, don’t worry. I’d say he’s checking on the rabbit snares. There should be quite a catch. Especially since I went up last night and laid some even bigger ones.”

The look Tuffnut gave him was impish and crafty. “If he calls out for me, I’ll go see what he needs. The left fork of the path should be clear, anyway. You’ll see what I mean.”

Dagur raised an eyebrow, but soon enough he did see exactly what Tuffnut meant. As he took the left trail, he glimpsed the form of a man hanging from a sturdy branch by one ensnared foot, and looking mad as hell for it.

He spun around in a helpless circle and Dagur made no effort to hide his mirth, throwing back his head to laugh, long and derisively. The man could simply call out for Tuff to help him, but the boy had known enough about his father’s pride to use it against him and make him wait.

“Wow, the rabbits on Berk have gotten huge,” he remarked before heading on his way, still chuckling. With satisfaction, he heard the man start yelling for Tuffnut to cut him down. Too terrified of anyone else seeing him like this, apparently.

He had to hand it to the kid; Tuffnut was a much better hunter than his father would ever give him credit for.


	18. On Good Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twins adopt a new sibling - to the great disadvantage of someone else. (RTTE S3 spoilers)

The Hunter ships below smoked and burned, their holds now empty of dragons. Several of the men below screamed curses, but the riders were already well out of arrow range. 

Heather had fought as well as any of them, but her eyes lingered on the decks of those ships - searching for a face she'd never admit hoping to see again. Truthfully, it would be comforting to discover that Dagur had faked it - all of it - and was still on Viggo's side. The more ships they attacked at random, with no sign of her (formerly) deranged brother on board, the more unlikely that possibility seemed.

"Hey, Heather, want to celebrate at my place when we get back?" 

"What?" she snapped, her thoughts completely derailed. 

Unfortunately, Snotlout wasn't. Great. She really didn't want to deal with this right now. Or ever.

"I said, do you want to -"

The rest of Snotlout's offer was drowned out by obnoxiously loud wailing noises, provided by the Twins cupping their hands around their mouths. They flew their Zippleback lowly over Hookfang, until they were on either side of Snotlout.

"Okay, hands where I can see them, buddy!" Ruffnut demanded. "Hold em' up!"

"Uh, no. Why would I _ever_ listen to -"

"Do you know why we pulled you over, pal?" Tuff asked.

"What are you even-" Snotlout was brought up short by a hand regally motioning for silence, less than an inch from his nose.

"Kindly read out the charges, my dear sister. Not you Heather, I mean Ruffnut," Tuff explained. Heather looked at him quizzically.

"Alright, let's see what we got -" Ruffnut unrolled a parchment. "Personal space invasion, verbal harassment, unwanted bicep-flexing, unbearable obnoxiousness -"

 _"Excuse me?!"_ Snotlout exclaimed, furious.

"Yeah, I don't think he can really help that last one," Tuff reasoned. Ruffnut gave him an exasperated look.

"Well, _you're_ the one who wrote it down!"

"Hmm. Also true. Please continue."

"This is ridiculous!" Snotlout yelled. "Are you all hearing this?" He received a number of indifferent shrugs and amused snickers in response.

Ruff cleared her throat loudly. " _If_ I may continue? Where was I - ah, here - stalking, pleading, whining, bargaining, refusal to take 'no' for an answer - aaaand . . . something that's too smudged to make out." She turned it so Tuff could see and he squinted.

"Oh, it says 'inconsistency'. Or wait, maybe 'insincerity'? 'Incontinence'? Eh, could be any of those three."

" _I AM **NOT** INCONTINENT!_" Snotlout screeched at the top of his lungs. Astrid gave up all and any attempts to hold back her laughter. "Shut up, Astrid!"

Heather was having a hard time herself, biting her lips and just looking straight ahead.

"We'll let you off with a warning this time. The next time we catch you bothering Heather, it will involve a five minute round in the boar pit," Ruff informed him. She handed Snotlout a piece of parchment that had a crude drawing of him being chewed alive by wild pigs.

"Yep! Five entirely merciless minutes. No rope, no ladder - anything goes. Got that, good buddy?" Tuff asked sweetly. 

"I . . . you _cannot_ be serious-"

"And that's good enough for us! Have a nice day, fly safe now!" Ruff chimed. Each Twin put a foot on Snotlout's helmet, while Barf and Belch landed on Hookfang, pushing both dragon and rider down and nearly out of the wind current. 

Snotlout yelled curses as he and his dragon struggled to adjust, catching another lower air drift to glide on. 

Heather turned to look at them, amused but also a little perplexed at what had just happened. They were protecting her? But why? 

"You just let us know if another stupid boy bothers you again, Heather," Ruffnut informed her. "We've got your back."

"Um, thanks?" She really was lost.

"Yeah, I got your back too, Heather!" Fishlegs exclaimed, flying close. 

Tuff and Belch immediately put themselves between the two. "Hey! Keep a respectful distance, lover boy! Hands where we can see them!" 

Fishlegs pulled back and gave him an irritated scowl.

Heather frowned. "Tuffnut, you guys can shoo off Snotlout as much as you'd like to, but Fishlegs is welcome to talk to me any time he wants."

"Why thank you, Heather," the bigger boy replied gallantly.

"Oh. Well, how else are we supposed to fulfill our duties as your _embarrassingly overprotective_ siblings? We can't just let you talk to _any_ boy." Tuff saw Heather's green eyes widen in realization and leaned in conspiratorially. "You know they're only after one thing, right?"

If it wasn't for the teasing wink he gave her, she might have gotten offended or even angry. She stared at Tuff for a startled moment, then started laughing, feeling lighter than she had in days . . . and apparently also like crying at the same time. 

Heather didn't even realize she had tears streaming down her face until Ruffnut flew close enough to hug her.

"Awww. Welcome to the Nut family tree. I always wanted a sister."

Tuff gave Heather a one-armed squeeze from the other side. "So is _that_ why you used to force me into girl's clothes?" he asked over her head.

"Aah, you liked it and you know it." Ruff palmed her brother in the face and the two separated, granting the black-haired girl her personal space again.

She hadn't expected to be adopted of all things, not really and certainly not by the Twins. The realization that Dagur might have - _would_ have - wanted someone to look after her like this nearly made her cry all over again, for reasons she didn't _ever_ want to talk about.

Heather quickly wiped at her eyes. "You two really are crazy," she managed, unable to stop smiling. 

Exactly crazy enough to call her own.


	19. The Path of Least Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuffnut knows he's an 'okay' brother. Sometimes he tries to be a good one.

Tuffnut had a problem. Well, he had a great deal of problems, actually - but at least none of the other ones were attempting to flirt with his sister.

Or shamelessly trying to butter him up for tips on how to ‘get’ her. As if he’d _ever …_

“Come on, Tuffy!” Snotlout grinned, slapping him on the back, and nearly sending the scrawnier boy off the watchtower. 

Yep, he’d been stuck on patrol with this lunatic nearly all night. In the warmest corner, Chicken rustled her feathers and clucked forlornly. She didn’t much care for it either, but had been insistent on accompanying them.

“You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be awesome having me as a brother!”

“So we’re just jumping right to marriage, are we?” Tuff asked flatly. “When you can barely even make her smile.”

“That’s where you come in! With your help, and my looks - I can totally win her over! It’ll be easy.”

Tuffnut stiffened at that, fists slowly clenching. His knuckles gave off a small series of pops. “ _Easy,_ you say?” Sensing her human’s rapidly darkening mood, Chicken likewise made a small series of worried noises.

“Totally - like taking milk from a baby yak. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. Here I was chasing after unattainably perfect girls, when all I had to do was -”

“You know what - _stop!_ ” Tuff snapped, rounding on him. “Just stop, okay?! My sister is _not_ a prize!” 

“Uh, yeah, duh.”

Tuffnut’s eye twitched.

“… I _meant_ ,” the blond iced, through clenched teeth, “She’s literally not an object to be rewarded to the winner of a competition in recognition of an outstanding achievement.”

“Huh. Well, I knew that.”

“Oh, really? Good. Because I swear on the strength of Fenrir’s tether, I’d sooner find you dead face-down in a pile of fresh yak dung, than _ever_ help you hurt my sister!”

Snotlout stared, then burst out laughing. “Come on, hurt her? How could I -”

“By getting her _interested_ in you, then dropping her like a hot rock as soon as someone new comes along!” Tuff put a hand up at the other boy’s protests. “Don’t _even_ \- no - nuh-uh! You know exactly what I’m talking about! Ruffnut isn’t like Astrid or Heather. She _will_ believe your lies! And it’s not even like you lie well - actually, you’re just horrible at it - but she’ll believe them anyway, because _she’ll really want to!_

“Because even though she was your _last_ possible option, she was still considered an _option_ \- and that alone is enough to destroy her when you inevitably ditch her for your next pathetic little ‘conquest’!”

He’d backed Snotlout up to the very edge of the tower, seething with fury. Chicken had gone very quiet, not so much as peeping, but she tilted her head - curiously watching. Snotlout let out a nervous chuckle.

“Okay, wow, kinda scaring me there with all the intensity …”

“You should be scared, Snotlout,” Tuff hissed. “If you go through with this and end up hurting Ruff? I promise what happens to _you_ will make the Norns seriously consider a long vacation.” He glowered warningly then turned away, heading to his side of the watchtower.

“ _Meh, meh, meh, a long vacation_ ,” Snotlout mimicked, under his breath. Tuff was far enough to be out of earshot anyway. The wind whistled at his back and he made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. It was a long way down, with only a couple of thick trees and bushes to break his fall. 

A stern cluck of disapproval made him turn back to scowl at Chicken. “What are you looking at, you pair of walking drumsticks? Gonna try telling me Ruffnut’s off-limits too? Ha!”

Chicken only puffed her feathers once, as though she was shrugging. Then she pecked the toe of his soft boot as hard as she could. 

“Ow!!!” Snotlout yelled and jumped, immediately cradling his aching foot in both hands. Completely forgetting where he was standing. 

A scream and several crashes later, Snotlout’s wearily pained voice carried up faintly to the watchtower. “You stupid chicken!”

Quite satisfied, Chicken crowed a mild lecture right back down to him, before turning to go fuss over her brooding human. Her work here was done.


	20. Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few days after "Family on the Edge".

She didn’t know how normal it was, being this tired. All Heather wanted, needed, was sleep. Food wasn’t interesting; she didn’t even feel hungry. Certainly not enough to get up and drag herself to the clubhouse.

Heather remembered how much she’d slept after returning to find her village destroyed - her parents gone. That was different though - it wasn’t like she was mourning Dagur. Why would she be? If anything, his ‘sacrifice’ should be giving her boundless energy and joy. She should be flying Windshear to her island right now, to spread the good news.

Groaning at the thought of daylight and cold wind, Heather pulled the covers over her head and tried to ignore the sunlight streaming through the window. What was _wrong_ with her? Perhaps she was sick or coming down with something.

A knock at her door made her groan again, burying herself deeper beneath her quilt. If that was Astrid again, trying to rouse her up for a morning regime … Her best friend meant well, but Heather valued her privacy - especially when she was this distressed.

“Go away,” she muttered. To her irritation, the door opened and footsteps simply barged in. Heather scowled, knowing there were few people who’d be that brazen, and steeled herself against being forcibly dragged into sunlight by a belligerently concerned Astrid.

No such thing happened, other than weight settling on the bed by her legs.

“So, you either said 'go away’ or 'yak parfait’, which wouldn’t be that surprising since none of us have seen you eating for a couple days now.”

Tuffnut. It was Tuffnut sitting beside her. Surprised, Heather stirred to lay on her side, still concealed by the covers but facing him. She never pegged him for the worrying type.

“Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe you’re luring cute little squirrels and birds in through the window by singing sweetly, and then biting their tiny trusting little heads off.” He looked around, as though searching for bones in the corner.

Heather smirked, amused. Tuff’s humor could be dark sometimes, but she weirdly appreciated it right now. It reminded her of …

Frowning, she curled up a little tighter. (She did _not_ miss Dagur.)

“Anyway, Chicken laid some fresh eggs this morning, and so I boiled them. In case you wanted some.”

The offer made her push aside the cover to look up at Tuff. “You’re letting me have her eggs? You won’t even let Ruff eat them.”

“She doesn’t actually like eggs. When she was a kid, she ate one raw. It might have been on a dare,” he shrugged, and Heather could see the start of a mischievous smile. “But either way, totally put her off chicken eggs. I figured you might want them though. Sleeping takes energy too, and it sucks to go to bed on an empty stomach.”

Tuff fished an egg out of the basket he’d brought with him, cracked it against the bed frame, and started to peel off the shell. Heather didn’t say anything, just watching his hands move.

Whenever Dagur had attempted to act brotherly, it had been awkward; like someone trying to fall back into an old forgotten habit. It had been genuine though, far more than Heather’s attempts at pretending to be a loyal sister. She supposed she ought to feel bad about that.

Actually, she did.

Tuffnut _was_ a brother - he’d been one all his life. He knew what to do, even if he didn’t realize he did. The easy smile he gave her as he handed Heather the peeled egg brought a flood of sudden tears to her eyes as she sat up to eat it.

Was this what it was like - what it would have been like - if Dagur hadn’t done all those horrible things? If Oswald hadn’t disappeared, would she have her own room in her father’s house? Would Dagur be in the courtyard, practicing with his axe, waiting for Heather to wake her sleepy head and come spar with him?

Fingers trembling, she ate the egg, relieved to see Tuff already peeling another to eat with her. He was barely paying any attention to her, not here to coddle or lecture or judge, just being near her and letting her do whatever she wanted. It was more comforting than she suspected he knew.

It was probably for this reason that when he stood up to allow her to stretch out and bury herself back into blissful darkness and warmth Heather grasped his hand and pulled him down to lay beside her.

Tuff made a noise of mild alarm and confusion, but quickly adapted - wrapping his arms around Heather as she hid her face against his shoulder. “Stay with me. For just a little while,” she managed.

“Eh. Okay. I’m always down for sleeping in whenever possible,” he quipped. Heather’s shoulders lost their tension at his lack of protest. Tuff rested his chin on top of her head; her grip around his scrawny ribs not giving him much of a choice. Clearly he’d slept in worse positions, for he was soon enough snoring blissfully into her hair.

Heather allowed herself to cry then, trying not to soak his tunic. She cried for Dagur, for lost opportunities, for the renewed pain and guilt he’d left her with. There was no-one left to blame; Dagur’s actions had even taken that much from her.

Tuff shifted in his sleep and held her a little closer. “S'okay, sis, the giant slugs can’t get us on the roof,” he mumbled in Heather’s ear. A series of firm but gentle pats on her skull preceded a loud ripping snore.

Heather’s sobs became muffled snickers and then a full throated giggle, even as tears still fell from her eyes. She sighed with relief, committing herself to yet another day of rest. At least this one wouldn’t feel nearly as desolate as all the others before.

Maybe next morning, she would accept Astrid’s invitation for an early flight.


	21. At the End of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: Contains spoilers for Season 4's last episode)

The explosion rocked the air itself, as though Thor had struck the island down to its heart. Dragons screeched and took to the air like flocks of startled birds. Their wings ripped past the riders, giving them difficulty in staying aloft.

"Head back quickly and take anything you can carry!” Hiccup shouted. Tuff was the first to turn his dragon’s head, and Ruffnut quickly followed suit, already knowing who was on his mind. Below them, the twins could see the boars from their pit swimming into the ocean toward the sand bar.

“She’s okay, Tuff, the island only just exploded,” Ruff tried to console him. She needed her brother calm. A panicked Thorston wouldn’t be able to find a panicked chicken. They landed at their hut first. Tuff jumped off Belch and ran inside, calling for his pet and sticking his head into the coop Hiccup had helped him build. Ruffnut waited on Barf, and kept a vigilant eye on the erupting volcano.

————

Heading from the far end of the island, Dagur was having his own trouble, trying to keep Shattermaster from falling behind. The poor injured Gronckle could only move so fast, and Mr. Triplestryke was terrified and moving way too fast. Dagur couldn’t blame him; this was most definitely a bad situation.

“Easy, big boy - we can’t leave Shattermaster behind!” Dagur called, gently patting the bigger dragon’s flank. “Slow down, and we’ll all get out of this together.” They continued on at a slightly slower pace, Dagur continuing to look behind them and make sure his beloved Gronckle was still following them.

The Triplestryke suddenly stopped with a confused chirp as a little brown and red something scuttled out from a bush. It clucked weakly, breathing hard as though it had run a very long way.

“Aww, is it you Chick-nut?” Dagur climbed down and knelt in front of the bird, picking her up. “Did you come all this way looking for Boy-nut? That’s just … that’s so sweet. Why don’t you rest on the way back to the Rider’s base? I’m sure he’s looking for you too.”

A loud crashing from the forest to Dagur’s left made him look, and what he saw made him give a yelp of alarm. A wall of crawling lava was melting the trees, causing them to topple as the intense heat cut through the base of their trunks.

The Triplestryke grabbed Dagur with his tails and set the Berserker on his back, taking to the air. Chicken squawked in alarm, cowering down in Dagur’s arms as an enormous fir tree crashed just where they’d been standing, only to be swept away by lava.

Frantically, Dagur searched for a bright spot of green amid all the red and black, while the intense heat made his skin tighten and blister. “Shattermaster!” he cried, heartsick. There was no sign of him - he couldn’t fly; where had he gone?! Mr. Triplestryke crooned at him sadly, as though apologizing.

Through his tears, Dagur gently patted his side. “It’s not your fault. You- You didn’t have time to grab the both of us.” Stifling a sob, he absently cuddled Chicken, who made a soft burble of concern up at him.

He tried and failed to give the bird a smile. “C-Come on, Chick-nut. Let’s get you back to Daddy.”

  
With a broken heart, and one last desperate, fruitless scan below, Dagur let the Triplestryke fly him away in search of safety and the other riders.

—————

She wasn’t anywhere.

Tuff sobbed and leaned against Belch, as lava scorched the earth and filled the pit beneath their hut. Soon the legs of the structure would go, and it would all come crashing down. Cool arms wrapped around him and his sister’s hair helped shield him from the intense heat.

“We can't find her, Tuff,” his sister said gently. He was sure Ruff understood how this year had already broken his heart; first with Gruffnut, then Macey. Now it seemed he was even going to lose … No, he had lost Chicken. He just wasn’t accepting it like he should, and now he was endangering his sister and their dragon.

The others had gotten what they could and had also flown above the island, looking for Chicken. Nobody had turned up anything. Of course they hadn’t; how could one little chicken outrun lava? Tuffnut sniffed and turned to hug his sister tightly.

“C-Come on, Ruff. We should leave. This place … it has too many memories.”

Ruffnut got on Barf and reached a hand out to help pull her brother up onto his own dragon’s neck. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a small black sheep doll, handing it to her twin. “Here, hold on to Fluffers. You need him more than I do right now.”

Tuff gave her a grateful smile and accepted the stuffed animal, hitching as he held it close in a hug. The Zippleback crooned at both of them and took to the air, just as their hut started to buckle and fall to a fiery destruction. It would be awesome under different circumstances, but not now.

As they flew to meet the others, a scene of desolation was laid out below. Blackened trees, bubbling seas of lava, and … what in the name of Thor was that?

“Hey-” Tuff said hoarsely, pointing and Ruff looked, gasping aloud as she saw the same thing. A stranded Gronckle stamped its feet on the tall craggy boulder, growling excitedly as it saw them.

“Is that Shattermaster?!” Ruff cried. They swooped low, Barf and Belch’s talons at the ready, and scooped up the dragon.

The Zippleback held Shattermaster tight against their belly, making sure to have a good hold on him. Now that he was out of danger, Shattermaster looked about worriedly, gnashing teeth as he scanned the horizon for Dagur.

Tuffnut weakly smiled at the injured Gronckle, leaning down to pat him.

“It’s okay, little dragon, I know you’re worried about Dagur. He’s survived worse than this.”

If only he could say the same about his beloved Chicken. Tuff sniffled and hid his face in Fluffers. It was a long way back to Berk, but at least they’d managed to save someone.

—————

Dagur had ended up flying further ahead without the other riders, heart too broken to look at Meatlug or to deal with company. He was still holding Chicken as Triplestryke landed. The bird had fallen asleep in Dagur’s arms. It was strangely comforting to have something so warm and soft snuggled up in his arms. No wonder the Boy-nut was so attached to her; maybe Dagur should get a chicken as well.

He saw Stoick heading over to him and looked up, only for the Chieftain to stop dead in his tracks at Dagur’s grief stricken expression. “Where’s Hiccup?! Is my son alright?!”

Dagur started. “Oh! Yes, sir - he’s heading here now. Everyone’s fine.” He quickly filled the Chief in, including Viggo and Ryker’s apparent death, and the volcano eruption which had just destroyed the Edge. By the time he’d finished, Stoick looked like he’d just aged another forty years.

On the distant horizon, both men could see Hiccup and the other riders as specks, approaching Berk. The chief put a hand over his heart, and let out a relieved sigh.

“That boy and his dragon are going to be the death of me someday,” Stoick vowed, shaking his head fondly. “Thank you, Chief Dagur. For aiding my son, returning our gold, and being our ally. I have to admit, I never thought it possible we could again have peace between our tribes.”

Stoick held out his hand and Dagur shook it, honored to be given a second chance. Chicken stretched out her little legs but otherwise didn’t stir in his arms. The Berserker smiled despite everything, and gently stroked her feathers. Oh well. At least he’d managed to save someone.

He barely looked up as the Dragon Riders landed, still unable to look at Meatlug.

“Hey guys,” Dagur said, heart sinking at a new thought. What would the others think about Shattermaster? Would they think he’d just left his poor Gronckle behind, upgrading to a new and more fearsome dragon? That’s what he’d think, if he were them.

Nothing, however, could have prepared Dagur for being suddenly tackled off Triplestryke’s back by a wiry, long-haired Thorston twin. Chicken squawked as she was abruptly woken, and she flapped free, leaving Tuff to hug Dagur tightly with surprising strength.

Tuffnut's face was buried against Dagur’s shoulder, probably to try and hide the fact that he was sobbing. “Thank you, thank you, thank you -”

Dagur chuckled and patted Tuff’s back. “It’s okay, Boy-nut. She was worried too.”

Chicken crowed joyfully and hopped on Tuffnut’s head, fondly plucking at his hair. She gave another loud squawk and dove out of the way, as a Gronckle decided to join the pile, belly flopping on both of them and licking faces with no prejudice.

“SHATTERMASTER!!!” Dagur yelled, throwing his arms around his Gronckle. Now it was his turn to noisily sob as he grabbed Tuff, Chicken and Shattermaster together, all in a tight hug.

Hiccup and the other Riders watched, grinning as their friends rejoiced in being reunited with their loved ones.

Snotlout watched with a few tears in his eyes at the emotional display, and then turned him and Hookfang around. “Well, enough of this sappy nonsense - some of us have work to do. What are we doing now, cousin?” he asked, looking at Hiccup.

Hiccup looked thoughtful for a moment, scratching Toothless’ chin. “There are still threats out there to Berk, an allied tribe that needs our help rebuilding, and new dragons to find. We’ll figure out a plan for later, but for now, I think everyone deserves a rest. We’re home now, so let’s enjoy it.”

Ruff raised an arm to that. “Hear hear!” she shouted in agreement. She glanced back at her brother and Dagur in amusement, noticing the two were sitting in the grass across from each other, excitedly telling stories about how they’d saved each other’s ‘brothers’ from certain death.

They seemed like they had a lot to bond over. Honestly, it was fine by her; more reliable people in her brother’s life certainly couldn’t hurt. Heather was watching them too, tilting her head slightly as she tried to make sense of the sudden and unexpected male-bonding in front of her.

“Let’s leave these two alone for a while,” Astrid said, beating Ruffnut to the punch as usual. Ruff sighed and rolled her eyes, but she was fully on board. She and Astrid linked arms with Heather (poor confused thing) and whisked her off to have some 'girl time.’

Hiccup was right. They were home, and for once, things actually seemed like they were going to be okay.

  
-end


	22. Dislocated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Spoilers for Episode 2 of Season 4 - "Gruff Around the Edges")

 

Hiccup heard the pained moaning almost before he got to the door of the Twins’ hut. He sighed in relief that they were at least back; the pair of them had all but disappeared after snatching their cousin to safety. He’d like to say he’d have done the same, but based on what Ruff told him about how Gruff always treated her brother . . .

The brunet shook his head, and lightly tapped on the door. Almost immediately, it was flung open by an exasperated Ruffnut.

“Oh, good. It’s you.” Without further ado, she grabbed Hiccup’s arm and bodily pulled him into their living space, letting the door fall shut behind. He gave a startled yelp, but Ruff ignored it, shoving him toward a mess of crates, nets and rope that was apparently one Tuffnut Thorston’s bed.

The male twin’s back was to both of them and he was curled on his side, making pitiful noises. Hiccup’s heart rate increased in concern as he approached, able to see multiple bruises. That had been a pretty vicious fight. Feeling awkward and out of his depth, he reached out to gently touch his friend’s shoulder. “Uh, hey, Tuff. What’s wrong?”

A whimper and Tuffnut’s good arm raised up, gesturing to his body. Hiccup sighed fondly. “Tuff, you just gestured to all of you. Come on now, where does it hurt?”

When her brother didn’t answer, Ruffnut threw back her head and groaned.

“His hip is still dislocated from being tied up in a cave, by guess who – and running into the wall a million times to get out of his ropes. Don’t know who told him that would work, but they’ve got a date with my fists.” She punched her palm for emphasis. “I managed to get his shoulder in, but now he’s being a total baby and not letting me do the rest.”

As frustrated as her tone was, Hiccup could hear the underlying worry in it. “You guys should have flown to Berk to see Gothi.”

She threw her hands in the air, turning to face Hiccup. “Wow! Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of such a great idea? Oh right, because it isn’t one! Have you ever flown to Berk for several hours with a dislocated hip?! I didn’t think so!”

Sometimes Hiccup deeply regretted being so sassy in his younger years. It had definitely been a bad influence on the twins. Oh well, imitation was the sincerest form of flattery . . .

“Fair enough. Well, let’s see how bad it is.”

With some help from Ruff, they got Tuff’s vest, tunic, and leggings off, despite the boy’s occasional noises of distress. His modesty was left intact by a loincloth, but nonetheless he trembled and kept his face hidden. Hiccup ran his hands over Tuffnut’s ribs, then felt up along his collarbone. Ruff hadn’t done a bad job with his shoulder, but Hiccup winced when he felt out Tuff’s hip. A gentle prodding revealed that the muscles were stiff and hot with swelling – which was not good.

There wasn’t any time to fly him to Gothi – Tuff’s joints and ligaments could be permanently damaged if this wasn’t tended to within a couple hours. He’d never walk the same again. “Tuff, how the Thor did you manage to fight Gruff so well, while in this much pain?”

Ruff answered for him. “Technically, you can kick someone’s butt with a broken leg if you’re mad enough. Lucky for me and our dragon, Tuff was pretty mad.”

“Oh, I bet he was, and he probably made things worse by moving around so much . . .” Hiccup bit his lip; if he’d known, he never would have taken Tuffnut with him. Toothless could’ve just snatched him out of Belch’s saddle and it would have been over with.

“Yeah, and by not letting me fix it as soon as we took care of our ‘heroic’ cousin,” Ruff grumbled, folding her arms and scowling at her twin’s back.

Tuffnut didn’t even bother to reply to that, still hiding his face under his arm and breath starting to hitch. Hiccup frowned reproachfully at Ruff as he heard the low sobs that Tuff couldn’t seem to stifle. Looking subdued, she sat down on the bed beside him. “Too harsh? Sorry.”

“N-No,” Tuff managed. “You were right, sister. I didn’t listen. Honestly, don’t bother fixing me at all. The constant pain will serve as a reminder to never trust that jerk again.” Hiccup sighed softly and rolled his eyes. Of course his friend would be dramatic over this – it was Tuff, right?

“I mean, no matter what else Gruff’s done to me over the years, I’ve always completely forgiven him by the time he shows up again, right? Guess that really does make me the s-stupid twin.” Tuffnut reached up to wipe his streaming eyes, and then started to cry in earnest – the kind that couldn’t easily be stopped.

Hiccup felt his chest grow tight, wishing he’d gotten a few punches in on Gruffnut while he’d had the opportunity.

“Aw, Tuff. You are not stupid,” Ruff sighed, pressing her forehead against his arm. “Just . . . trusting. You give people too many second chances and they walk all over you.”

“Is-Isn’t that the same as being stupid?” Tuff hitched, wiping his eyes.

“Of course not.” Hiccup walked around the bed to face him. “It means you’re capable of forgiveness. That’s not a bad thing; it’s . . .” He struggled to find the words. “If anything, it just makes us all want to protect you.”

“Yeah, bro. Whenever people take advantage of you or hurt you this bad, you gotta start letting us kill them,” Ruffnut soothed him, gently ruffling Tuff’s hair. Hiccup felt himself nodding, then startled.

“What? No –! I mean, we’re not killing anyone-“

“Oh, relax. I’m talkin’ collateral damage. Accidents do happen, my dear Hiccup,” She batted her eyelashes, in a parody of innocence.

Hiccup groaned, knowing she was mocking Viggo’s constant pet name for him. Right now, it was more vexing than funny.

“You know what, I’m not even gonna respond to that. Listen, Tuffnut, let’s get your hip back in so you can get some sleep. You’ve got your early morning show to do, right?”

Tuff nodded, not seeming too excited by the prospect. He let Hiccup and his sister arrange him on the bed so he was flat on his back. Carefully slow, Hiccup moved Tuff’s leg up, bending at the knee, and keeping a hand on the opposite hip to press his pelvis flat. He started to apply lateral force to the inside of Tuff’s thigh, pushing it open.

It was easy to do from the other side, but Tuff let out a wail of pain and tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down by his twin. “Yeah, I know. Allis’s Manuever wouldn’t have been my first choice either. Far too slow, and thus excruciating.”

“Wait, you know how to do this?”

“Duh. I was figuring you’d hold him down and I’d pop it back in. Hard and fast, that’s the way Ma always taught us.”

Shrugging in defeat, Hiccup switched places with her. Tuff immediately put his arms around the brunet’s neck, looking up at him with a breathless pleading whine. There were still bright tears in his eyes and he was shivering hard. “H . . . please . . .”

Hiccup just hugged him, letting Tuff bury his face in his shoulder.

Ruff was indeed fast; there was a ‘clunk’ and Tuff tensed in his arms and screamed. He trailed off into sobs and allowed himself to be moved back on his uninjured side, refusing to let go of Hiccup.

“I – okay, hold on . . .” Hiccup quickly adjusted to lay down facing Tuff. His friend had an iron grip on him, and didn’t lift his head, desperately nuzzling Hiccup’s already soaked shirt. He looked at Ruff for help.

She did help, technically, by putting a blanket over the both of them, and neatly tucking them in. Hiccup glared. “Thanks,” he said, flatly.

“You’re welcome.” Ruff smirked and laid down to join the pile, spooning her twin and creating a ‘Thorston Sandwich’ that would likely last throughout the night. Well, Hiccup supposed he’d slept in worse places. Toothless would have to figure it out and either sleep here or stay at the forge.

He absently stroked Tuff’s hair, not finding it in his heart to be angry. In the twin’s defense, dislocated hips were said to be one of the most painful things a person could go through. Men twice Tuff’s size were usually sedated before Gothi did the job. The gentle caressing worked somewhat; Tuffnut eventually lifted his tearstained face from Hiccup’s shoulder and loosened his hold as he relaxed. “You smell like leather and sweat,” he said weakly. “In a good way.”

“Uh. Thank you, Tuff. So, are you going to do your morning show tomorrow?”

“I guess . . . do you actually like it?”

“Sure, I think it’s a fun way to wake up. I was asking because you might need a little help getting up the ladder to the Thunder Ear,” Hiccup offered. Tuffnut nodded, looking a bit unsure and embarrassed. “You could always just say I’m a guest.”

Over Tuff’s shoulder, Ruffnut gave Hiccup a gratefully warm smile.

“Huh. I guess . . . you don’t mind, even if it’s totally not the truth?” Tuff asked.

“Come on, Tuff, what are best friends for?”

Tuffnut looked like he might cry again, and hugged Hiccup tightly. He chuckled and hugged Tuff back.

“Awww,” Ruff cooed.

It wasn’t long before all three of them fell asleep.

 

\- END


	23. Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a series of drabble requests for an anonymous asks on my tumblr (maedarakat.tumblr.com) - first up, some drunken Tuff/Dagur shenanigans. :)

“Did they just . . , hang on, did they just leave us here?” Dagur demanded, staggering a bit outside the tavern. “Everyone? Even our sisters?”

  
Tuffnut put a steadying hand on Dagur’s shoulder (not to help the man, but rather his own balance) and nearly sent the both of them to the ground. He muttered and opted to lean against the more stable lantern post.

  
He missed it completely, hitting the ground instead. Oh well, at least now he was able to get a really good look at the sky.

  
“Yep. No dragons. Left us behind,” he commented. “Think it was our singing?”

  
“ _Our_ singing? I was on key. You weren’t even singing. Just … insulting Fishlegs and Snotlout between every line. I did all the singing, actually!” Dagur peered down at Tuffnut owlishly. “You were supposed to sing the Hooligan tribe song with me!”

  
“Oh, right. Sorry. Good job remembering all the lyrics though.”

  
Dagur gave him a lopsided grin. "It was pretty popular in Alvin’s prison, actually. Got us all through some hard times. Hey, but … why _are_ you mad at those two?”

  
Tuff opened his mouth to indignantly defend himself, then remembered that Dagur didn’t visit them at the Edge every single day; there was just no time to fill him in on every unfolding drama. Perhaps he could sweet-talk Ruff into drawing up some kind of informative newsletter they could send to Berserk.

  
“Eh. They’ve decided they must fight for the hand of my sister.”

  
“Ooooh,” Dagur said, sounding intrigued.

  
“Sadly, not to the death.”

  
“No weapons? Pfft. Boring.” The Berserker shrugged. “Does your sister like it? Their attention?”

  
“No. Wait, maybe? I actually have no idea if she lIke's it, but one thing is clear - they don’t deserve her. She’s way too awesome and clever and strong to be saddled with a mere Jorgenson or a common Ingerman.” Tuff scowled and then glanced at Dagur. “If you ever tell her I said any of that, you’ll be getting a visit from Smidvarg with a sharply worded note!”

  
Dagur rolled his eyes. “Oh no, not another angry Terror-Mail! What did you call them last time? ‘Snarlers?’” He shot another accusing frown at the empty sky. "Anyway, there’s no wild dragons on this island. Looks like we have to walk to the docks and find a boat to the Edge.”

  
“Nay, I protest. A Thorston never deigns to walk!” Tuffnut proclaimed dramatically, flinging an arm across his forehead. Dagur raised an eyebrow and was met with a pleading face. “But is there any chance you can carry me? I don’t even think I can sit up.”

  
“You can sit up,” Dagur said, impassively (though there was just the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. “You just did a second ago to see how far it was to the docks from here.”

  
“That and the arm-fling wasted what little strength I had left.”

  
Even though he suspected Tuff was just saying that to get a free ride, Dagur was already opening his mouth to relent. Some idea gave him pause, and his smirk got just a bit wider.

  
“Hey, want to hear something I figured out?” Dagur asked slyly.

  
“What?”

  
Dagur managed to kneel without falling on top of him, and Tuff was momentarily distracted by the smell of leather, and the sweet mead on his warm breath.

  
“I just figured out why you like chickens so much. It makes perfect sense. It’s because you’re just like a rooster that chases all the foxes - out of your sister’s yard.”

  
Tuff gasped and sat up immediately. It wasn’t the content if the barb that had riled him - just the fact it had been so unexpectedly good - and now that big Berserker _jerk_ was sauntering (staggering) down toward the docks, cheerfully whistling a tune.

  
How dare he.

  
Tuffnut was enraged (and more than a little smitten) and he used it to propel himself unsteadily to his feet. "HEY - you - YOU wait up,” the boy growled, voice unsteadily torn between cursing Dagur out and laughing hysterically.

  
Dagur laughed and quickened his step a little, stringing Tuff along after him, muttering empty threats and stumbling. “See! I knew you could do it, Boy-nut!”

  
“Shut up,” Tuff grinned. He wrapped his arms around Dagur’s waist to try and drag him down to a fight, but of course he had no strength or coordination to do so. Dagur just ended up dragging him along effortlessly, nonchalantly whistling.

  
Well, it wasn’t exactly carrying, Tuffnut thought. But it worked.


	24. Bdellophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Tuffstrid pls we all know tuff's scared of all sorts of things
> 
> (Hope you like this, anon. It was inspired by a scene from “Darkness Falls”)
> 
> Ruffnut: “I don’t know … I haven’t seen him this freaked out since he found a leech on his -”
> 
> Astrid: “Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there.”

Astrid had to hand it to the Grimborns - they’d really thought hard this time about ways to keep their prisoners from escaping. Being submerged in the deepest part of the elusive Hobblegrunt’s watering hole while confined to a dragon proof cage? Genius. It was forcing them to use all their energy to keep from drowning - by either treading water with their legs or hanging from the top grate until their arms tired.

Viggo had been thoughtful enough to have the soldiers strip them of their boots, weapons, belts - basically stripping them down to their tunics and leggings before throwing them in. On one hand it had been humiliating, on the other the metal wouldn’t have allowed them to stay buoyant.

Astrid didn’t much care for the water’s wildlife either; the floating debris of creek weeds (or snakes?) that kept brushing past her ankles. The mosquitos and biting horseflies. The –

“AAAAAAAGH!” Someone screeched beside her. Astrid was suddenly clung to and the added weight sent them both momentarily under. She struggled to break away so she could reach the surface and breathe again.

It was harder than it should have been. Both of them had been here for hours and they were exhausted. When her companion didn’t join her (instead sending frantic bubbles to the top) Astrid growled and dove down to haul him up. Clinging to her arm, Tuff coughed out water, took a deep breath, and resumed screaming.

“Stop! Tuff, what is it?!” Astrid asked. Even in their current distress, she was trying not to snap at him. “Did a snake bite you?” she asked, trying to move away to get a better look at him.

“Nope. No.” Wide-eyed and pale, Tuff shook his head, braids floating with him in the water. “No snake bite. I would rather a snake bite. It’s been a long time and I kind of miss -”

“Tuff. Please tell me you didn’t almost drown us because some hornwort touched you. Or …” Astrid scrunched her nose, trying to think of something equally ridiculous that was just _him_. “A mosquito flew into your eye.”

“No! I mean yeah, that all happened, but that wasn’t why -”

“We don’t know where Hiccup and the others are right now, or how long it’s going to take them to find us. All we can do is keep alive. I know it’s gross and unpleasant, but –”

Astrid paused and looked at Tuffnut. He was silent, not interrupting, shivering and … and those stupid, gray, kitten-like eyes full of unshed tears. She hated what that did to her.

“Okay. What is it?” Astrid sighed.

“L-Leech. I h-have - I have a -”

“Ugh. I know, they’re terrible. Just calm down and pull it off -”

Tuff sobbed in response - actually upset enough to cry in front of her (that alone made her want to beat several different colors of _shit_ out of Viggo) and crossed his arms over his scrawny chest, fingers digging into his flesh. “I can’t touch it! I hate leeches, I can’t make myself touch it, I’m sorry -”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll remove it. Just keep your head above water.”

Tuff started to protest but it was too late; Astrid was already submerging herself to look him over. The blood sucking creature wasn’t on his bare feet or ankles, or any patch of visible skin. She resurfaced. “Where is it?”

He stared at her miserably, hitching, and then turned his face down to mutter the answer.

Astrid felt her cheeks color, even though it was ridiculous. They’d all grown up together. They’d bathed together as children. Everyone had seen everything.

“It’s … fine, I can -”

“I don’t want you to!” Tuffnut wailed, covering his face and backing up in the water. Astrid was almost offended, until he continued. “I know what everyone’s going to say or think - that I did it on purpose, that I tr-tricked you into to touching me! Ev-Everybody knows that nobody would _want_ to touch me otherwise, n-not unless I tricked them!”

“Whoa, hang on - Tuff, _nobody_ is going to think that.”

He turned to look at her beseechingly, clearly believing all the awful things he’d just said. (Had somebody said all that to him?)

“I don’t think that about you. And we don’t have to tell anybody who would, do we?” Astrid managed a grin for him and saw him visibly relax a bit. Like her, he was exhausted and overwhelmed, mentally and physically. She’d seen him fall apart before, when he wasn’t near his protective sister, but only ever around her. It almost felt like a compliment.

Astrid swum a bit closer and took his tear-streaked face in her hands, gently kissing Tuff’s forehead. “It’ll all be okay, Tuffnut,” she prompted.

"… Okay, Astrid,” he said shakily.

She sunk down and made quick efficient work of it, pulling the leech off of him and letting the currents carry it away. His hands came down to try and quickly lace himself up, but Astrid took a hold of his fingers gently. She didn’t quite know what she was doing, simply wishing to convey to him that he was beautiful and there was nothing shameful about his body. If someone touched him, it _was_ because they wanted to.

She squeezed his hands and took hold of one of the laces. Astrid wasn’t against seeing more of him later, if he’d let her, but that would have to be another time. For now, she helped him lace up, their hands brushing each other’s in the water. She resurfaced to receive a sudden soggy armful of wet trickster, as Tuff hugged her tightly.

It was his way of thanking her and seeking comfort all at once, as he buried his face in her shoulder. Astrid sighed fondly and reached up to grab the bars of the cage, keeping them both afloat. Soon, the others would get them out of here. She knew that with the same certainty she knew the sun would set.

For now, they just had to wait and keep their heads above water.


	25. Deeper Than It Looks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Walking home after it rains and jumping in every puddle they see - I don't mind whom you do tbh 
> 
> (Thanks anon! These are fun, can’t believe I’m getting asks. This one shall be a Tufflout - Snotlout's POV)

Snotlout normally hated the seasonal rains, but there was one person in his life that could make a miserable existence into a fun one - and right now they were making him laugh so hard he could hardly breathe.

Or rather, their current situation was.

Tuffnut panted desperately, grabbing at the clay-soft edges of the hole he was in - water up to his neck. What had started as a simple romp through heavy puddles after the storms deluge had unwittingly turned into a disaster.

The best part of it all was that Tuffnut thought he’d done it on purpose. In between trying and failing epically to scrabble onto drier land, Tuff was lauding Snotlout’s utter genius.

And also cursing him out occasionally for not helping him.

It was pointless to protest his innocence, even though Tuffnut crash-landing into a six foot deep sinkhole disguised as a puddle had actually been an Act of Loki. Snotlout would happily take the credit for such a 'prank', so long as Tuff was impressed.

“Seriously, help me out before I freeze to death!” Tuffnut wailed dramatically. "Snotty, help meeeee!”

"Hahahaha, I’m s-sorry - I ca-a-an’t-” Snotlout managed, face red and sprawled out helplessly in between puddles. "I can’t even br-breathe -”

“Mnyehh, I’m Snotlout, I’m gonna pee myself -” Tuffnut mocked, and splashed at him. The puff of laughter that came out of the blond boy’s mouth next was genuine amusement, and it only set them both off all over again into hysterics.

Finally Snotlout was able to recover long enough to grip Tuffnut’s arms and pull the boy’s soaked lanky shivering body over his. He was shivering pretty bad, actually.

Snotlout almost - almost - felt guilty, until clammy hands pressed his cheeks in and Tuffnut’s cold nose and mouth butted up against his, kissing him.

His heart skipped a beat, but before he could react (or even think of how to react) Tuff had rolled them over into a shallower puddle. It still soaked through whatever was left of Snotlout’s dry clothing and he gave a roar of indignation.

Tuffnut just gave him one of those maddeningly playful grins - sun golden in his hair and pupils blown wide in gray eyes. He was poised to dart away, to lead the chase, but Snot was quicker and heavier.

He rolled and pinned Tuff on his back, one half of him again in icy water, the other arching up in surprise against Snotlout’s warmer body. He kissed Tuff back before he could stop himself and think - about Spitelout’s disapproval, or what other peers would say.

None of it mattered.

“You-You know it’s gonna rain again pretty soon,” Tuff said, eyes wide and still shaking a little beneath him, though not as much as before.

Snotlout glanced up at the dark swollen sky and then back down at his … his whatever-they-were-now. He grinned.

“Let it.”


	26. What Friends Are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> can u do a platonic drabble maybe with the twins cheering up Hic after he loses to viggo?
> 
> Sure! That would be kind of cute. Hiccup's POV coming up next!

“Come on, Hiccup, it’s not all that bad. We managed to free most of the dragons,” Astrid consoled him. Hiccup shrugged her off, still stinging from the loss and from Viggo’s taunting words.

  
At her frown, he softened. "I know we did some good out there, Astrid. But Viggo still got away with those Typhoomerang eggs, and he’ll just use them to lure back the parents we just spent all night freeing.”

  
“I can’t believe someone would be so evil,” Fishlegs was fuming. “Keeping their eggs hostage so they have to work for Viggo! It’s enough to make me wish I wasn’t human!”

  
“Who’d ever ride you if you were a dragon?” Snotlout jibed. “It’s pointless to fret about it anyway, Hiccup. Maybe you’ve given those dragons a chance to do their own coordinated attack on Viggo’s base to get their eggs back. You don’t know what a dragon will do just to keep their babies safe, but I found, and trust me - Viggo is probably gonna wish he’d never laid his grubby little hands on them.”

  
The experience with the Fireworm Queen had definitely given Snotlout some insight in the matter of eggs and their parents. Though Hiccup perked up a little, he was still clearly upset over the way the battle had turned out.

  
He didn’t have long to angst over it; a chicken was suddenly plopped into his lap and the Twins were pressed up against him on either side.

  
“Not to worry, young Hiccup,” Tuff said ridiculously (since he and Ruffnut were the youngest Vikings there). “We understand why you’re upset. It’s that Viggo - he can’t even win graciously, am I right, sis?”

  
“Yeah, it’s the way he talks to you. Like every sentence he says can have the phrase ‘you stupid idiot’ trailing after it. It’s really annoying. I wanna punch him in his smug smirking face. What’s going on with villains today? What happened to the maniacal parting laughter, or the sinister smirking and malignant pose-striking? Now those were the days!” Ruff lamented.

  
Hiccup shook his head, though he had the tiniest smirk on his face.

  
Tuff nudged him in the ribs lightly. "Truer words, sis. Hey! Can you imagine if _you_ talked to Viggo the way he does to you?” Tuffnut stood up and tried to stand like Viggo, perfect soldier posture and arms clasped behind his back.

  
“My dear Viggo, such pouting does not become you, old chap. I’m so glad you managed to secure a small but meaningful victory for yourself in our little game of cat and mouse, or wait, what was that quaint little board game you like so much. I’ve quite forgotten the name …”

  
Tuffnut’s voice wasn’t exactly like Viggo’s, but he got the tone so dead-on perfect that Hiccup and the others couldn’t help snickering.

  
“Oh, yes, Maces and Talons! It’s so refreshing to see older businessmen such as yourself taking the time to enjoy the little things, like board games, and polishing their board game pieces, and practicing lofty monologues alone in their tents … to their board game pieces -”

  
Now the rest of the gang was actually laughing, relaxing for the first time all day. Hiccup couldn’t find it in him to keep being upset, not while Tuff was going on like that. And not while Astrid was outright guffawing, leaning against his shoulder.

  
“What I’m trying to say, old chap, is keep a stiff upper lip no matter how badly I’ve just sunk your profits and do try to keep morale up among your men. Well, cheerio, pip pip, I’m off to go destroy another one of your precious convoys. I hope you can guess which one correctly this time, hmm? It gets so boring when you aren’t there to try and out-maneuver me.”

  
Hiccup held up his hands, ribs starting to hurt. “Okay, okay, enough,” he laughed. “You’ve more than helped, Tuff.”

  
His friend finally broke character and snickered, sitting back down beside Hiccup and both twins sandwiched him in a hug for good measure. Even Chicken gave him a series of fond clucks.

  
Hiccup just smiled, realizing how lucky he was to have his friends around. It would be so much harder to do this - to fight against someone like Viggo - without them.


	27. Storm Warden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked:  
> "Otp caught in a bad storm" for whatever otp of your favorite mutual
> 
> \---   
> I wrote this one for tousled, since she loves Tuffstrid (and us making me really start to love it too!)

Everything was white and red and stung like a thousand tiny knives embedded in his skin. Tuffnut didn't know what exactly had knocked him off his dragon and out of the sky, but he knew the blocky shadows cast over him belonged to the culprits. He remained still, curled on his side in the snow, as one jabbed his side with the butt of a spear.

"Think this one's dead. He hasn't moved," a gruff voice reported.

"Well make sure. Ryker doesn't want prisoners this time, or bodies. He'd prefer it if we just slit a throat and leave it to the crows."

Tuff went very very still and tried to hold his breath, but a Hunter knelt on his broken ankle, making the air leave his body in a pained wheeze. A hand gripped his face, making him uncurl from his hollow in the snow, while the man's other hand pawed at him, searching for something.

"What are you doing? We've got an hour until the storm hits and we've got to be back at base. End him."

"Sure it's a him? I was hoping it was the girl." He sounded disappointed and if Tuffnut had the strength, he would have punched the creep as hard as humanly possible. He was working up a wad of bloody spit to launch into the Hunter's face, when a knife's edge suddenly pressed against his jugular.

"OI! Wait just a moment!" The knife was shoved away from Tuff, leaving behind a nick but sparing his life for the moment. "We've got an hour right?"

Tuff was glad for the sun in his eyes; that way he couldn't see the man's stupid leering face. "How about it, boyo? You fancy any more time on this earth? I'll let you live for as long as you put that pretty mouth to work, until I'm done." The Hunter fumbled with his trouser laces, still holding Tuff upright by grip on his chin.

Even now, when he was expected to grovel, he couldn't help but be a smart-ass. Loki help him.

"Oh, so like, one whole entire minute? No thanks," he quipped.

The other Hunter's guffawing laughter at his comrade's expense was unexpected, but the heavy hand that cracked across Tuff's face wasn't. He collapsed back into the snow and braced for death. At least his last words had been an insult - sort of the way he'd always wanted to go out.

A familiar and welcome battle cry interrupted whatever deathblow either Hunter had in store, and he heard two heavy forms hitting the snow hard. Moments later, a pair of hands grabbed him under the arms, half dragging, half carrying him toward a copse of fallen pines.

Tuff tried to work with her, using his good foot to help keep their balance, but Astrid was strong enough that it didn't matter. She pulled both of them under the deadfall, until they were in the center of a maze of bare branches flocked with icicles.

Her soft hair fell in his face as she leaned over him, and Tuff saw flashes of blue and cream and purple as Stormfly curled around them both. The Nadder further camouflaged them with her wings and generating warmth. Astrid was scolding him, but also soothingly running her hands over his chest, undoing his clothing so she could see to his injuries.

"You are so lucky I saw you fall - Ruff was screaming at the top of her lungs but we could barely even hear her over the winds!" she panted, fear making her blue eyes all the more piercing. "And then you survive, only for those Hunters to nearly - you seriously don't know how lucky you are!"

She was shaking . . . or was that just him? Tuff wrapped his arms around her and buried her face in her hair and wolf-fur trimmed cape.

"It's okay, Hoff," he breathed. "You got here in time. I knew you would."

Tuff hadn't, not really, but he wanted to comfort her. By now, he knew that little strangled noise in her throat meant she was trying not to cry.

"I must be even luckier than you said, being here with you. You know, being trapped in the middle of a really bad incoming storm . . . with our very own Storm Warden . . . may have just upped my chances of surviving this otherwise complete yak-dung pile of a day."

Astrid laughed through her tears and kissed him. "Then my first act as 'warden' is to get you dry and warm and no longer bleeding. We'll have to wait it out down here - Hiccup and Toothless were already leading the others to shelter. This storm is going to hit hard and fast."

Tuff helped her as best as he could to shed his soaked clothing, and propped himself up shakily while she wrapped soft white bandages around his ribs. The bleeding was from gashes left by his impact with sharp chunks of ice in the otherwise soft, absorbing snow. None of them seriously deep at least.

She propped him up to lay on a blanket against Stormfly's warm side, and then pulled his ankle into her lap. He tried not to cry out as she set it, knowing he was probably a pathetic enough sight - shivering and naked, with his wet clothing wedged up in the branches to dry. They couldn't risk lighting a fire.

She bandaged his ankle too, then crawled to lay on top of him. Tuffnut let his arms slip around her waist, and sighed shakily as she wrapped herself around him, tucking his head beneath her chin.

They had yet to tell the others about what was between them, but then they didn't really have to. It was apparent to all since that night they'd defended the Edge together - the sudden fondness in all of Astrid's complaints, the pure affection in every roguish smile Tuffnut sent her way.

Even if it hadn't been obvious, Ruffnut would have taken it upon herself to inform everyone, so thank Thor they'd managed to evade that awkward Thunder Ear announcement.

Hiccup had taken it with grace, honestly relieved he didn't have to explain to Astrid why he'd begun to see her as more of a sister than anything else.

The only real hurdle to their future the two of them faced would be their parents. In the history of Berk, no Hofferson had ever married anyone as low of station as a Thorston, and it was abundantly clear they'd hoped Astrid would marry the son of the Chief. Tuffnut's family was one to just sit back and enjoy the drama; there would be no help whatsoever from them.

Eventually his shivering ceased, especially when Astrid cocooned her fur cape around them both, trapping their heat between them. They'd survive this; they had survived worse.

Tuffnut cupped her face in his hands and kissed her cold nose, as the storm began to howl around them.


	28. Jealous Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For the “httyd rare-pair kiss meme 2017” which I totally missed but were aggressively ignoring that: “Jealous Kiss”)

(For the “httyd rare-pair kiss meme 2017” which I totally missed but were aggressively ignoring that: “Jealous Kiss”)

  
—–

Dagur was furious. Not that he was exactly rampaging about it or anything; he’d learned to calm the beast inside long ago, but that only meant he was a teapot set to simmer.

It certainly didn’t help that the indirect object of his ire was actively teasing him as they all flew back to Berserker Island. Or maybe Tuff wasn’t making fun, so much as trying to get him out of his mysterious funk.

Dagur could hope so, but the illusion was spoiled by both Heather and Astrid asking Tuff pointedly on numerous occasions whether he was trying to die.

“Well, always,” was his cheeky answer. “I mean, if the last half-hour didn’t prove it, I don’t know what will.”

Ruffnut scoffed and lashed out with her leg, catching her brother upside the helmet. “It also proved you have absolutely no accounting for taste in men. I mean, really? _Viggo Grimborn_? On the _mouth_?”

He couldn’t help but give an angry snort at the mention of that jerk’s name, and looked sharply away from Tuff, hands tightening on Shattermaster’s pommel. The Gronckle gave a trill of concern.

“In mid-sentence, might I add. Purely for comedic timing.” Tuffnut paused, getting probably the most deadpan of looks from all sides, before going on the defensive. “Hey, it finally stopped him talking, didn’t it?”

“So could your fist,” Dagur snapped, surprising even himself as he turned back to the conversation. He knew he shouldn’t be talking until he was feeling much cooler, but by the gods, the (oblivious) blond trickster tested him sometimes. “Or a boot to the head. Or a mace.”

Tuff stared at him, eyebrows slowly going up. “I didn’t have a mace.”

“Oh, okay. Did your leg just happen to fall asleep? Did you forget how to make a fist, perhaps? Or is there any _other_ semi-logical reason why you’d prefer to press your lips against that puckered asshole Viggo calls a mouth?” Dagur’s voice went up in a yell toward the end, making everyone else flinch - except (of course) Tuffnut.

“Why are you so mad? I would have thought you would find it hilarious. It’s not like Viggo got to kiss Hiccup or anything, which - lets all face it - he clearly wants to do but he’s just too shy to admit it to Hiccup. It’s a shame really. So much war that could have been averted … lives saved …”

“What the Thor?” Though somewhat buffeted by the wind, Hiccup’s bewildered voice carried quite clearly.

Dagur didn’t pay much attention to it, eyes suddenly riveted to Tuff. Was this why he’d been so obnoxiously dense to all Dagur’s advances so far? He’d thought maybe Tuffnut just wasn’t interested …

But if he still thought Dagur was in love with Hiccup, then even the bluntest of compliments wouldn’t have breached that otherwise beautiful thick skull.

Girl-nut had been right all along. If he wanted any luck with her brother, he had to be even more blunt. The bluntest. And even then if Dagur thought he was being blunt enough, he had to triple his efforts.

(“Not because Tuff is dumb or anything,” she’d later confided in him, voice softer with affection for her twin. “Because it’ll take that much to convince him anybody’s interested.”)

It was time to chase all doubts away, for good.

Or maybe it wasn’t the time, but Dagur didn’t care much for that sort of trivial detail.

He flew closer and snagged the boy by the tunic, nearly pulling him out of his dragon’s saddle, and kissed Tuff’s lips so hard he could taste blood. His fault; Dagur had sharpened his canines at a young age, trying to make himself look fierce. The odd little shiver he felt Tuff give didn’t seem like a complaint.

Dagur broke the kiss finally, but kept a hold of Tuff’s tunic. “Here,” he said breathlessly, to the panting and flushed rider. “I just gave you a really easy chance to save lives. Because if you kiss anyone else on the lips besides me, ever again … they? Are dead.” He smiled, a little too brightly. “Got it?”

Tuff gave a faint moan and nodded, unconsciously moving closer to Dagur.

Which meant as soon as Dagur let go, he really did fall out of his saddle.

The red-haired man gave a startled yelp and Shattermaster dropped immediately to catch him. As soon as he did, Tuff clung to him tighter than a squirrel to a shaking branch. Not out of fear so much, as there was a strange vulnerable smile on his lips.

“You know I’m not as handsome as Hiccup, right? Or as smart, or inventive, or as sassy -”

“Tuffnut, I know this might be hard to believe, because it’s hard to explain. There’s a million reasons why I like you, reasons that I don’t know how to put into words. I just know that I do. Besides, Hiccup is my brother now. It’d be kind of weird if I still thought of him in that way.”

He felt Tuff relax in his arms. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Sorry for not thinking you were serious.” He looked up at Dagur for a moment and gave his jaw a careful nuzzle. He was rewarded with another kiss, this time far more gentle as they flew along after the others - beneath the formation so they had (some) privacy.

“It’s about time!” Snotlout yelled down to them. Tuffnut refused to break the kiss to respond to him, but afterwards he gave Dagur a sly grin. “So, I can kill a guy just by kissing him now, is that right?”

Dagur nipped at Tuff’s ear.

“Don’t push it,” he smirked. “I never said _you’d_ be getting out of it unscathed.”

A delighted shiver was his response. “Heh, neat.”

  
\- end


	29. Clouds of Corn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events in “Sins of the Past”, Heather and Dagur prepare to leave for home - but not before their friends do something to ease their heartache.

“Oh. My. Thor. This stuff is amazing,” Tuff said, just a bit intelligibly since his mouth was full. “I’m so glad we added the salt and yak butter.”

“Right, but I think the cinnamon and sugar is what adds the real piece de resistance!”

“Agreed, that too is enjoyable. Though I tend to prefer it more savory, salty - ooh, maybe I should add some garlic? No. Onions? Definitely, no - onions always make me cry. It’s so sad. It’s gotten to the point I don’t even have to chop them anymore -”

Ruff lightly elbowed him, jerking her head to the open doorway of their hut. “Hey, speaking of crying, look.”

Tuffnut turned his head, wiping an arm across his mouth, just in time to see Dagur and Heather walking by, heads lowered. Heather was audibly weeping, tears streaming down her face, and her brother didn’t look much better - pale and shaken, with an arm around her shoulders as they headed to the Clubhouse.

“Oh, right. Snot had good news for us, while Dagur had some bad news for Heather.”  

“Poor things. And all on an empty stomach too, I’ll bet. Hey, you think they’d want some clouds of corn for the trip back?” Ruff grinned, and gestured to the bowl they’d made. Tuffnut appeared to consider it.

“I don’t know if this would work alone as sympathy food. It’s too light by itself. Too fluffy. I’d personally want to eat this plus everything else that could conceivably be tasty after finding out news like that.”

“Huh. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Tuffnut glanced at her and grinned. “If what you’re thinking is what I’m thinking, then yes - _debemos ir a la cocina, inmediatamente!”_

—

Dagur sighed and nudged the mug of mead toward Heather, who had her arms pillowed under her chin. She didn’t reach for it, but her eyes flicked toward it briefly and then away in disinterest.

“Come on, sis. It’s a long trip back to Berserker island, but I don’t want to go until you’ve eaten something.”

“I’m not hungry, Dagur. And you haven’t eaten anything either,” Heather sighed.

Her brother winced, and looked down at his own untouched plate and mug. There was an apple, a few berries, some venison jerky, and a few rounds of tack. Not inedible fare, but it certainly didn’t have that Berserker kick to it. Dagur figured he’d get them home and cook them something better than this - but right now he was drained and exhausted.

What he was not expecting at all were the Twins walking into the Clubhouse, each balancing a bowl in each hand, and also a platter on their heads. Tuff had a covered basket looped over his arm as well.

Dagur’s fuse was short and his heart aching too much to want company. As funny as they looked, he would have asked the Twins to give them some space, but Tuff winked in his direction, giving him pause.

“Hey, guys. Hope you weren’t thinking of flying back to Berserk on empty,” Tuffnut supplied, setting down a bowl of what looked like white fluffy pebbles. Dagur wrinkled his nose, sitting up to inspect the food … even if it was the weirdest food he’d ever seen. Ruff was already setting down another bowl next to  it, only these ‘pebbles’ smelled of cinnamon and sugar cane.

“Yeah, not after the day you guys have had. Eat with us, and as much as you like.” Ruffnut also put down a platter of deviled eggs next to the popcorn, along with a bowl of cracked almonds, walnuts, sunflower seed kernels, shelled pumpkin seeds and dried fruit chips.

“That one’s another specialty,” Tuff told them. “An old favorite. We call it ‘trail mix’. I wanted to call it ‘mixed nuts’ but I guess that doesn’t sound as appetizing.”

Dagur was actually reaching for that one when Chicken gave a delighted squawk, landing on the table and pecking greedily at the trail mix.

“Chicken!” Tuff admonished lightly, picking her up. “Don’t be rude, brood. In la casa de Thorston, our guests dine first.” He nevertheless made her a small pile of popcorn and trail mix, before setting down a tray of yet more food items balanced on his head.

One was a pitcher of cold yak milk, the other a plate of what looked like round tack, except made with pecans, coconut shreds, flower petals, and a honey glaze. They smelled amazing.

“Those are Mama Nut’s cookies - she used to make ‘em for us whenever we were down in the dumps,” Ruffnut explained to Heather, who was already reaching for one. “We just learned how to make ‘em ourselves living out here.”

She smiled at Ruff and bit into one of the buttery cookies. Her eyes lit up, and Dagur felt a heaviness in his heart start to lift a fraction. “Oh. This is good! Dagur, you should try one.”

Heather all but waved it under his nose until he took a bite. She wasn’t just being polite; it really did taste good. And somehow, the fact there was food that they didn’t have to prepare? That was comfort in itself. “Mmm! It really is delicious - all of it! We couldn’t possibly eat all of this though.”

“We got you, no worries. You can pack up as much as you want for later.” Tuffnut had a shifty grin on his face as he reached beneath the table for something. “I even have a basket for such an emergency. If you don’t mind, I gotta check first for stowaways though.”

He set it down in front of them and lifted the soft blanket he’d put over the top to reveal the contents. Piles of yellow fluff blinked open their eyes and yawned, then immediately started peeping.

Heather made a sound Dagur was certain she’d deny later and reached into the basket, pulling one out to cup warmly in her palms. “Is this where Chicken was? Raising a family? They’re so adorable! Did you name any of them?”

“Oh, we named all of them. Chicklet, Clucknut, Puffnut, Fluffnut, Dustmote, Shirley and Kevin . Only problem is we can’t tell which is which anymore.” Ruffnut shrugged and snagged a deviled egg. “They’ll figure themselves out when their plumage comes in.”

Dagur tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth, and subtly edged the plate of cookies toward Heather. “And what did you name the rooster?” he asked Tuffnut, with a teasing grin.

Tuff’s expression went stormy for a moment. “Fustercluck,” he answered with a scowl.

Heather snorted and Dagur joined her and Ruffnut in laughter, while Tuff made a show of crossing his arms and appearing to sulk. Playfully, Heather threw a few kernels of popcorn at him and he tried to catch it in his mouth - surprising them all by succeeding.

This resulted in a game of sorts - everyone trying to see who was the best at catching the fluffy white kernels in their mouths.

Dagur had to admit, this was far better than just going back home to a lonely Chieftain’s hut, where he wouldn’t even begin to know how to comfort his sister. Here there was fun, tasty food, adorable baby chicks, and best of all, their friends. He paid no attention to the time or how dark it was getting, noticing that Heather wasn’t too concerned with it either.

He had absolutely no problem spending the night in the stables with Triplestryke if she wanted to sleep in her own hut tonight.

There was something to be said about grief and good food. They picked the plates clean, and Dagur was touched to see Tuffnut encouraging Heather to eat her fill, simply by sneaking cookies onto her plate and topping off her mug with cold yak milk - all the while distracting her with the silly tale of how he had tracked down his wayward Chicken.

He almost didn’t realize that Ruff had been doing the same thing for him, as he too listened to the story. As the night wore on, more stories were told and shared - and yet more of the Riders joined them for dinner - which became a bit more of a potluck than any sort of planned meal.

Snothat brought a mean potato salad, Astrid brought some mackerel and turnip kabobs, (that everyone politely avoided, save for one greedy dive bombing Terror - which soon afterwards was heard lamenting its life choices from one of the watchtower roosts) Fishlegs had brewed a nice soothing herbal tea, and Hiccup had his Night Fury flame-broil some salmon.

The night was spent pleasantly - a rare few hours of peace on the Edge that slowly came to an end as people headed off to catch some sleep. Fishlegs and Hiccup were wiped, and left first, though more at Heather’s urging. She had a knack for telling what her friends needed.

Before any of them knew it, twilight was barely lightening the sky and Dagur had caught himself yawning almost as much as Heather. His sister glanced over at him as Astrid and Snotlout began carrying away the empty dishes.

She inclined her head toward the Twins who’d fallen asleep just a few minutes ago, surrounded by sleeping chicks nestled in their hair and the crook of Tuffnut’s arm.

“Should we get them to bed?” Dagur asked quietly, once Astrid and Snotlout had left.

“Hmm.” Heather just looked at them, fondly. “Didn’t even have to sing this time. Yeah, let’s make them more comfortable.”

A few minutes later found all four of them in the stable. Chicken had gotten her chicks into the basket with her, and Dagur set the sleeping brood down gently, near Sleuther’s warm flank. He still had Tuff on his back, snoring gently in his ear. Heather was already laying Ruffnut down against Sleuther, as Windshear curled around them to complete the warm circle.

His sister certainly knew her dragon Riders; the Twins hadn’t woken up even as they were carried to the stables. Had Heather not been so calm, it might even have been concerning.

Dagur laid against his dragon, letting Tuff rest against him. Amazing how the boy never woke up, just muttering about yak butter and salt and … nuzzling his shoulder? “Cuddly, aren’t they?”

His sister chuckled and sat to his right, gently arranging Ruff to sleep across her lap and taking off the girl’s helmet. “They certainly can be. I can’t keep track of the times I’ve woken up during a bad wind-storm to find them in a pile on my floor. Or on my bed.”

She laughed at her brother’s raised eyebrow. “It’s not just me. They’ve done it to Hiccup, Fishlegs, Snotlout … Astrid only once, since her first reaction upon waking with someone unexpected in the room is to hurl knives and scream.”

Dagur couldn’t help laughing at that. “I can only imagine how that must have gone,” he snickered.

“Complete pandemonium,” Heather agreed, smirking. “Which is every moment on the Edge, especially with these two on it.”

“You’re fond of them. I think I am too. We should definitely have more nights like this - but on Berserker island. Maybe we can host a party for all the Riders? Show off our own cooking skills.”

Heather grinned warmly and Dagur felt something in his heart lift. “That sounds like something to look forward to, brother. So long as you remember to keep Berserker chicken off the menu.”

Chicken gave a burble of mild concern, but fell right back to sleep.

In no time, both Berserkers had joined her.


	30. Fluffy Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ruffnut finds something horrible in the woods. Will the rest of the gang survive the encounter?

Hiccup looked worriedly out toward the tree line that surrounded the Clubhouse, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. “Okay, this might be bad,” he muttered, and the burble from his dragon nearby echoed his concern. “She’s been gone far too long.”

He walked from the balcony back to the fire pit table, where the other riders were watching a Maces and Talons game, Astrid versus Dagur. Tuff wasn’t scanning the horizon worriedly at all, more interested in the game.

He made a sound of disappointed protest when Hiccup tugged him slightly away from it.

“Aren’t you wondering where your other half is, Tuff? Ruffnut been gone all day.”

“Don’t fret, H,” Tuff shrugged easily, glancing over distractedly as Astrid exclaimed in frustration.  “Ruffnut’s out on a soul searching errand, to find her inner nut. My poor sister has such a thick, hard shell, that could take days. If not weeks.”

Hiccup frowned. “That’s what I’m worried about. Remember what happened the last time you went searching for your ‘inner nut’? You came back bitten after a wolf attacked you.”

“Uh, no, it was a Lycanwing, remember?” Snotlout called over. He laughed and scooted closer to Dagur. “I totally convinced that knucklehead he was gonna turn into a were-dragon.”

“Really, Snotman? Then what happened?”

Snotlout opened his mouth and then shut it, remembering that tale hadn’t ended in his favor.  “He got better,” the dark-haired boy muttered, sulkily.

“Fear not, young Hiccup. Ruff is definitely rough enough to handle anything she may encounter out there. If not, well, we’d all hear her scr—“

Tuff stopped mid sentence and suddenly turned white as a sheet.

Hiccup was about to ask him what was wrong, but then all the dragons snapped their focus in the direction of the woods, Toothless growling warily. Just barely, over the sudden silence, there was a thin terrible screeching sound - like a dying rabbit.

Tuffnut ran for the stairs, nearly knocking Hiccup over. Toothless caught him from falling as he shouted and together they ran after Tuff, who was moving faster than Hiccup had ever seen him. Judging from the sound of the footsteps charging behind them, Hiccup figured everyone in the Clubhouse had come barreling after to see what was wrong.

They found Tuff embracing a shaking, babbling form. Ruff’s eyes were wild, hair all undone out of her braids, and there were twigs in it - making it look like she had antlers. She was half-shrieking something, as Tuff was trying to talk to her soothingly, not having much luck.

“We have to get off the island! We’re all gonna die!” She screamed, shaking her brother violently by the collar of his vest. He grabbed her in a hug that was part headlock.

“Calm down, sis! What in Loki’s name did you see out there?”

“Something awful! Something hideously terrifying! And it’s coming straight for us!” Ruff screamed in his ear. Tuff winced, and Hiccup decided to try and give him a hand.

“Ruffnut, whatever it is, you’re safe now. We can face this thing together.”

She angrily broke free, flipped her hapless brother to the ground and stepped over his body with a crunch to get in Hiccup’s face.

“Oh, _oh_ , don’t you even _think_ about patronizing me! You got us all into this mess in the first place - your adventuring, one-legged, tousle-haired shenanigans have finally doomed us all!”

Hiccup just blinked, completely at a loss.

Brushing himself off, Tuff flashed him an apologetic smile, but before he could try to diffuse her, Snotlout flew to Hiccup’s defense.

“Yeah right! I know an epic prank when I see one. You’re both totally faking this, and let me guess, somethings gonna come ‘charging’ out of these bushes to hit me in the face, but it’s gonna be attached to a wire, and it’s probably gonna be something lame like a stuffed bunny with deer horns on its head!

“And you’ll both laugh and say ‘Loki’d!’ and maybe _one_ entire person will think it’s funny. There, I solved it, now can we all go back to the match already? This is all so predictable.”

Tuff and Ruff stared at him, then Tuff looked hopefully toward the bushes, grinning widely. When nothing jumped out to smack Snotlout in the face, he turned back to his sister and put his hands on his hips. “Well, now I’m just disappointed.”

“I’m serious, bro! This isn’t a joke! I saw our death itself reflected in that _thing’s_ eyes, and it’s coming straight for us!”

“Neat!” commented Dagur with a grin, after a long tension-filled silence. Heather rolled her eyes and jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

At that point, something swept unseen across the leaves in the forest - the sound grabbing everyone’s attention - especially their dragons. Sleuther and Toothless took point as the others flanked their riders, baring their teeth and growling. The noise and small flurries of movement seemed like it was being gusted toward them until all at once it stopped.

A ball of white fluff with dove-like wings, rabbit-like ears and a tufted tail leapt out of the darkness, landing before them with large liquid black eyes glistening inquisitively. It tilted its head and the other dragons quieted but remained tense.

The fluffy dragon went _rawr_ at them. It sounded more like a kitten sneezing than anything remotely threatening.

“Awww,” Heather and Fishlegs both cooed at once, but Ruffnut waved her hands in alarm.

“No, no, no, don’t fall for it like I nearly did! It’s a murderer! Every single one of them!” she yelled, half climbing onto her brother’s shoulders in terror. “Murderers!” Ruff shrieked, clinging to Tuffnut’s face.

“Sis?” he whimpered, falling to his knees. “Can’t breathe.”

“Ruff, it’s amazing! An entirely new class of dragons! I didn’t know they could grow feathers like birds! We’ve seen dragons with many different scale types, but never feathers!” Hiccup reached out his hand to the small dragon.

It trilled sweetly, sniffed his hand, then promptly launched itself at Hiccup’s face, mouth suddenly open too wide with far too many teeth. He shouted in alarm, falling back on his ass and Toothless jumped in to smack the thing away with his tail fin before it could bite Hiccup. It went sailing overhead to land in a bush.

Suddenly the woods were full of ominous rustling, clicking, and angry chirps.

“Guys, I don’t say this very often, but - uh - RUN AWAY!” Dagur yelled and turned to follow his own advice, yanking both his sister and Fishlegs after him. The others followed suit, Tuff carrying Ruff, as the forest seemed to explode behind them.

An entire herd of angry murderous puffballs chased after the group as they took to their dragons and to the relative safety of the air. The little dragons couldn’t get very high with their cute cherub wings but they certainly made up for it by maliciously snapping at the air just beneath them.

“I told you so!” Ruff yelled, jumping from her brother’s back to Barf’s neck.

“Yeah, you did,” Hiccup sighed, while Toothless snarled and hissed at the frothing flock below. “So while we’re up here, who wants to name them?”

“Oh my gods, is he serious?” Snotlout asked flatly. Everyone’s expressions answered him in volumes.

“Ooh, I’ll start!” Tuff volunteered. He pointed below. “That one’s Monty, that’s Mr. Praline, we could name that one Python -“

“I vote for death-pigeons,” Astrid volunteered.

“Wensleydale, Mr. Badger, Arthur -“

Hiccup sighed, supposing he’d brought the resulting snark and discourse on himself. Well, at least they were all safe more or less, and hopefully the little dragons dispersed before too long.

“Ruff? Tuff? I hope you know neither of you are ever allowed to go searching for your inner nut again?”

The twins glanced at each other and sheepishly gave him two thumbs up.


	31. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HTTYD Rarepair Prompt: Fighting/ Arguing // “There’s a difference between being brave and being stupid!” (Dagur/Tuffnut)

It was an uphill climb all the way, in the attempt to evade the Hunters.

They had lost badly - well, at least their little team had. Dagur wondered how Hiccup, Heather, Astrid and Fishlegs were doing. Whatever had befallen them on their half of this mission, it had to be better than this.

Ruff and Snotlout had been captured, along with the twins’ Zippleback and Hookfang. Sleuther was travelling behind them, grounded with an injured wing. He still crashed through the brush to flank and protect them, tail ready to kill anyone that might ambush.

Which was good, because Dagur’s arms were currently too full to properly defend himself. 

The boy twin had first nearly killed the man who’d taken down his sister, and then had recklessly tried to take on Krogan himself. The results of that terrible decision were clearly evident on Tuff’s body. 

It had taken Dagur’s Berserker rage and Sleuther’s fire to get Krogan to back off long enough to grab Tuff, but they’d been cut off from the others and forced to retreat. 

He stopped finally, at a raised stone formation surrounded by plenty brush and hidden by trees. Krogan’s Singetail would have a hard time spotting them through the thick canopy. It was a good place to rest for now, and regroup.

Dagur set Tuff’s back against the smooth part of the stone and sat down to look him over intensely. Absently he reached up to pat Sleuther reassuringly. The Triplestryke nuzzled his name-giver anxiously as the boy stirred, managing a feeble moan.

“It’s okay, buddy, he’s coming around.” 

Though he tried to sound calm, inwardly Dagur’s head felt full of angry hornets. He wanted to shake Tuff and yell at him for taking such a stupid risk. Tuff wasn’t a half-bad fighter for a Berkian, but attacking Krogan? 

Fury was all he had to cling to, since the other option was to give into the stinging behind his eyes. 

He had almost lost him.

 

Tuff opened his eyes, to find Dagur and his dragon peering down at him. He ignored the stormy expression on the Berserker’s face, concerned with one thing only.

“Ruff?!” He looked around wildly, scrambling to his feet. Considering he probably had a concussion, it was neither a successful not brilliant move. 

Still sitting, Dagur grabbed him by the hips, first to steady his swaying body, then to forcibly pull him down into his lap - perhaps a little rougher than necessary.

He put a hand over Tuff’s mouth before the boy could argue. “Keep it down. We’re not safe,” he hissed. “Those hunters are looking for us, so we need to stay still and be quiet.”

“But -“

Dagur was inches from losing his temper, and he wrapped Tuff in his arms, pinning him against his chest and half-hugging the breath out of him. It wasn’t a great reaction to his current state of emotions, but it was the best he could do. 

Especially given that his mind was oh-so-helpfully replaying the butt of Krogan’s weapon slamming into Tuff’s temple with a sickening crack. Thank the Gods his skull was so thick. 

Then again …

 

“So, um, I’m sensing a little tension …” Tuff wheezed after a moment.

“Oh, really?” Dagur snarked, squeezing even tighter. “I can’t imagine why I would be tense. Can you?”

“Ow,” Tuff whined, squirming. “Uh, is it because you forgot to meditate before battle? You always get a little cranky when you don’t - gotta have a clear head to bash heads, am I right?”

Dagur quite suddenly wanted to bite him. Not even in the fun way.

“You. Nearly. Got. Killed.” He bit out instead, every word laced with a deep anger he normally never let surface. At least, not any more. 

Tuff scowled, no longer able to justify glossing over the issue - not if Dagur was this upset. Being purposefully obtuse might have gotten him out of arguments with his friends, but Dagur was wise to his tricks.

“He hurt my sister. You would have done the same exact thing if he’d hurt Heather.”

“And I trust you would have also dragged me away after I got beaten unconscious and then berated me for being so stupid. Right?”

“Hey! I’m not stupid!” Angry, Tuff tried to break Dagur’s hold on him, but the Berserkers arms were like a vise.

“I didn’t say you were. But what you did was, Tuff. You might have thought you were brave, but you can’t help your sister or Snotlout or anybody else if you wind up dead.”

Tuffnut went quiet and finally stopped struggling against him. It gave Dagur a chance to calm himself, now that Tuff seemed to understand what a risk he’d taken. He let out his breath slowly, loosening his Berserker death grip on the boy.

“I’m sorry,” the blond muttered shakily. “When Ruff fell - I saw red and I … it was like I couldn’t think.”

Dagur relented, understanding all too well what that was like. He kissed Tuff’s throat gently and unpinned him, reaching up to caress and examine the twin’s injured face. 

There would be some awful mottled bruising all the way from his temple to his collarbone. It was a miracle Tuff’s skull wasn’t cracked or even soft. He’d honestly been surprised the boy was breathing at all when he’d picked up Tuff’s limp form.

“We’ll get her back, and your dragon. Snothat and his dragon too, I guess.” Dagur smirked, trying to lighten the mood. Tuff didn’t smile, just turning to bury his face in the crook of Dagur’s neck. He knew what the unspoken question was without needing to ask.

Tuff might have buried his insecurities beneath a mountain of humor and trickery, but they were all nearly identical to Dagur’s - one of the reasons they got along as well as they did.

He hugged Tuff close, kissing tenderly along the unmarked side of his face. “Don’t worry. I still think you’re smart. How many times have you outfoxed all your other enemies, hmm?”

Tuff grinned against his shoulder. “Outfoxed ‘em like a badger.”

Dagur sighed fondly, rolling his eyes. Whatever that meant, it was still cute. “Okay, lets do this. Without trying to die this time.”

He got up and held his hand out to Tuff, who grinned up at him and took it.

They had a lot of work to do, and they were two dragon riders down, but between them both? Krogan wasn’t going to know what hit him.


	32. Underworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HTTYD Rarepair Prompt: "Time" (Hades!Astrid/Persephone!Tuffnut)

Adjusting to the constant dark of the Underworld was hard for him.

Astrid at first got barely any sleep at all - awakened at least five times a night with an armful of terrified, babbling flower-child. Had it been any other god down here sharing her bed, she might have snapped at him to ‘woman up’, then rolled over and gone back to sleep.

But it was him, and so she had wrapped him up closer to lay against her, banishing his fear of the dark with stories of long-ago battles and soft kisses.

His grin could brighten up any cavernous room, any winding tunnel, but she could tell he missed the sun more than he’d thought he would.

They were alone, completely, in this decision. No other god or goddess wanted to get involved with this surprise couple. Astrid had even heard there was a betting pool on how badly it was all going to end when Ruff figured out where her brother was spending his nights.

She and Ruffnut didn’t exactly get along on the best of days, but if she was going to get her toga in a bunch over what was honestly none of her business, Astrid was just fine with that.

It was Tuff getting upset where she drew the line though. Every time he promised her that his sister or his friends would learn to love her, she felt like hugging him and then wandering off to go punch something.

As it turned out, the news of their union could have been better received. The best reaction they got was fake genuine surprise - mostly to avoid the anger of the goddess of fertile soil and harvest, who had naturally found out last.

And from that air-headed god of war, who just lived for starting drama - among themselves as well as mortals, it would seem. Small wonder Ruff was livid. She had no idea of what lies the goddess had been told, but to the surprise of no-one, they turned out to be shockingly false.

“I abducted him?!” Astrid snarled, flaring as soon as the accusation left the courier’s mouth. She stood up from her throne of skulls and femurs, bristling. “That’s what they all think?!”

Tuff didn’t get up from the throne she’d had carved for him next to hers, overgrown from the base with luminescent mushrooms and glowing algae. He did scowl and cross his arms however, looking put out.

“Nobody abducted me,” he informed the messenger of the gods. His scowl was replaced by a wistful smile. “Though I think I would have liked them to. You think we can we have a do-over?”

Astrid sighed fondly. “Maybe later, okay babe? Well set something up by the Styx.”

Tuff gave a delighted little shiver.

The messenger-god sighed, shaking his head. “Right, well, I’m going to leave you two lovebirds alone. Just figured I’d tell you that everyone’s likely going with the abduction story and getting themselves all kinds of crazy riled up on Olympus.”

She groaned and put her head in her hands, sitting back down. Great. Everything was turning absolutely golden-apple shaped, and no matter what defense she could cobble together, it was all against two - she was going to lose him -

“And I mean, unless you’ve eaten anything down here, they’re definitely going to object to a sweet spring god marrying some big scary underworld death goddess. “

“Hnh. Pussy willows,” Tuff grumbled, resting his chin on his hand. Astrid raised her head to glance at him; it was the first time she’d ever heard him directly insult anybody on her behalf. She furtively covered a smile, then something Hermes had said finally clicked.

She shot him a grateful look, and he grinned back knowingly.

Maybe somebody was on their side after all.

—-

“How many should I eat?” Tuff muttered, and she knew he wasn’t only asking her, but also himself.

How much of the sunlight could he stand to miss for any given length of time?

Astrid had counted the months until those mischievous gray eyes had dulled, and he’d started to go pale, staring at fissures in the ceiling as though longing for the earth to crack open - if only just briefly.

She took the pomegranate from him, counting out the seeds, then offered him six.

It was exactly how long she could bear to be without him.

“I could just eat the whole thing,” he croaked defiantly, and though she loved him fiercely for offering, Astrid shook her head and kissed him.

“Each of us get half a year. It’s only fair.”

He wrapped his arms around her after eating them, each one disappearing between his lips like a tiny perfect jewel.

Astrid buried her face against his hair, committed to remembering the scent of spring, before resigning to her own personal winter.


	33. Only Joking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HTTYD Rarepair Prompt: Flirting / “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” 
> 
> (one-sided Tuffnut/Throk)

This was ridiculous.

All that jumping around on dragon-back and heroically dropkicking Singetail Riders in midair - seriously, who did this guy think he was, anyway?

Tuff hunched over his breakfast, face hot and unable to keep from staring at the man who’d styled himself his twin’s bodyguard.

Throk had stayed with the Riders for a few days after the battle to reclaim their base from Viggo and Krogan, pitching in to help rebuild huts and to make sure Ruffnut was truly safe.

Yeah, Ruffnut. Throk was always hanging around Ruffnut - always focused on her, and never him, even when Tuff was trying to be friendly, like massaging Throk’s feet or running his fingers through that long well-groomed ponytail.

Even now he was sitting with his sister at a different table, stroking one of her little side braids with an expression that made his stomach turn.

Tuff growled as the man haltingly said something to Ruff in Spanish - making her giggle coquettishly. 

Ugh. _He_ was the one who liked Spanish - not her! Why couldn’t Throk talk to him like that? What did he have to do to get Throk’s attention for more than five seconds?

Beyond that, why did he even want Throk’s attention?

“Tuffnut, are you alright? You’ve hardly touched your food,” Hiccup remarked.

The blond trickster came back to reality and blinked, finally noticing his friends had already finished their meals. It was griddlecakes and berry syrup - his favorite - but his appetite had vanished. He poked morosely at the three cakes on his plate, now cold and soggy.

“I don’t know, H, maybe not. I feel different. Weird.”

“Well, you are weird, I can grant you that,” Snotlout quipped.

Hiccup gave him an annoyed glance, but looked back to Tuff. “Are you that upset about Throk and Ruffnut?”

“Upset! Who says I’m upset? No, I’m not upset - not when you have descriptors like furious, wrathful, and admiring as alternative choices.”

“What - did you say admiring?” Hiccup repeated, confused.

“Ahahaha - oooh, I think somebody has a crush!” Snotlout teased, thumping his friend’s back.

“Yeah, exactly - I want to crush his stupid handsome face! With … with my face! Thats a normal fighting technique, right?”

Hiccup groaned and took a moment to bury his own face in his hands. “Oh, Thor … “

Fishlegs chimed in, trying to be helpful. “Tuff, he means you possibly have feelings for Throk that obviously have you very conflicted. You’re not sure whether you hate him or, well …” He trailed off into awkward fidgeting.

“Well? What? The suspense is killing me - please tell me what emotional baggage I have toward this man!” Tuffnut reached across the table to shake Fishlegs.

“It-It’s possible you’re in love with him!” Fishlegs blurted, caving under the pressure.

“Uh, love is a bit strong of a word -“ Hiccup hastened to correct. “You probably just like him, Tuff. The way people like each other before they start dating.”

Tuff wrinkled his nose. “You think I should ask Throkando out on a date?”

“Yes!” Snotlout shouted, gleefully. “Oh my Thor, do it! Go, ask him on a date right now, before Ruff does!”

Tuffnut stood up immediately.

“Snotlout!” Hiccup snapped. “Ah, Tuff, keep in mind that Throk might not have the same feelings for you that you have for him, alright? So don’t be surprised if he turns you down.”

“Or yells at you,” supplied Fishlegs.

“Or punches you out,” laughed Snotlout.

Unconcerned, Tuff shrugged. “Well, nobody has ever called a Nut a coward, and they’re not about to start with me! I’m gonna tell him how I feel, ask him on a date, and he’s totally gonna say yes, because I’m that awesome.”

“That’s the spirit, Tuffy!”

“Not helping, Snotlout,” Hiccup growled through his teeth at his cousin, frustrated.

“Ummm. Good luck?” Fishlegs offered meekly, as Tuff strode purposefully toward Throk and Ruffnut’s table. Astrid and Heather walked over, having just returned their dishes to the kitchen.

“What did we miss?” Heather asked, sitting down next to Fishlegs.

“Nothing yet!” Snotlout chimed, leaning back to get a good view. “This is gonna be epic!”

“Snotlout, you’re letting him get into an argument with Throk again?!” Astrid complained.

“It’s not exactly an argument,” Hiccup explained, glaring at Snotlout. The Jorgenson gave him a cheeky grin, and stuck out his tongue roguishly.

Across the room at another table, a pantomime was playing out. They couldn’t hear what Tuff was saying, but it got Throk to jump to his feet and caused Ruff to palm her face.

Throk said something unintelligible, and Tuff gasped, recoiling as though he’d been stung.

“But I like you!” Tuffnut cried out plaintively.

“Oh, Thor, I can’t watch!” moaned Fishlegs, covering his eyes.

“You what!?” Throk looked confounded.

“Is that too strong a word?” Tuff fretted. “Wait, no, maybe … it’s not strong enough! Very well - I, Tuffnut Thorston, love you!”

He held out his arms, as though waiting for Throk to swoon helplessly into them.

Astrid whimpered. Heather copied Fishlegs, peeking through her fingers. Hiccup looked like he was trying to will himself onto another plane of existence. Snotlout just grinned.

Throk took in a deep breath, and then let it out in a burst of laughter.

The laughter went on, growing more uproarious, until Snotlout’s grin faded into an uncomfortable wince.

“Ohhh … did not see that coming, ouch,” he muttered.

Throk slapped Tuff on the back heartily. “Ruffnut told me you were funny, but I did not realize how hilarious you truly were! Good joke, friend! I was truthfully feeling down about not being able to kill one of her enemies for her in this last epic battle, but your humor has lifted me up considerably!”

Tuff’s eyes were wide open, welling up fast with tears, but he smiled valiantly through them. “Oh. R-Really? Cause yeah, heh, yeah, I was totally just … y’know . . kidding.”

He hitched and scrubbed a hand quickly across his face. “Wow, s-stupid bugs … always jumping right in the old stormy grays …”

Throk opened his arms and lifted Tuff in a bear hug. “I do hope you continue to tell such lively jokes. You truly have a talent there.”

The only sound Tuff gave was a dejected whimper. When he was released, he made his way back dejectedly to the other Riders - trying to give them a bright smile and a thumbs up.

It fooled absolutely no-one, but aside from Heather gently pulling him to sit down between her and Astrid for the remainder of the night, they were kind enough to pretend it did.


	34. Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuffstrid Week: Protection/ "I'm not leaving them!"

There were many dangerous things in and out of the Archipelago, and Astrid supposed they had fought them all at some point.

The men they’d fought, however, seemed worse than any dragon - and the one standing before them now was no exception to that rule. Krogan walked closer, looking bored and mildly irritated - but that wasn’t what chilled her.

Viggo was also standing nearby, close enough for Astrid to see his expression. It was one of unease, and he kept switching his gaze from her to her companion. Astrid swallowed a growl. Viggo had absolutely no right to look like that - like he was worried for them. She half wondered if he was doing it just to get under her skin, as well as Tuff’s.

Both of them had been captured on the team’s latest mission - trying to get a wounded Typhoomerang and her hatchlings out of Dragon Hunter territory.

They’d been ambushed halfway to the cave system Fishlegs had scouted out, but all of them might have gotten away regardless had it not been for one impossibly headstrong Thorston twin.

Tuff had seen one of the Hunters grab a hatchling by its leg, cruelly hanging on as it desperately tried to fly to its mother. He had jumped off Belch, spare mace swinging wildly, and managed to take the man down - plus four others. The hatchling fled to safety and promptly afterwards, Tuffnut found himself surrounded.

Astrid had to hand it to him - Tuff certainly knew how to ‘frenzy’ with the best of them. What he didn’t seem good at was the art of getting out of impossible combat situations. Naturally, she had charged through the line on Stormfly, reaching down a hand to pull him up.

They’d only scattered for a moment, all converging too quickly to grab Tuffnut’s hair and throw him down. By consequence, they had also yanked Astrid out of the saddle - using her refusal to let go of Tuff’s hand against her.

Hiccup and Ruff had called their names, but the Hunters swarmed the area - quickly subduing the captured mother dragon and her brood. He and the other Riders had no choice but to retreat, no doubt for a rescue attempt later.

Krogan studied her face carefully, walking a circle around the tree she and Tuff had been tied to. Finally he spoke.

“A curious thing, endangering yourselves like this, just to rescue a Typhoomerang. What was your long term goal for rescuing such a dragon? Were you hoping to tame her?”

Astrid was about to snap a reply, but Tuff beat her to the punch.

“You don’t mean tame. You mean subjugate. Why would _you_ subjugate a Typhoomerang?” Tuff replied, arching an eyebrow.

Krogan scowled. “Don’t play a fool with me, dragon rider. I’ve heard from Viggo that you and your sister are far more clever than you seem.”

Tuff cracked a grin, one which made Astrid tense and groan. He was going to be a smart-ass, wasn’t he?

“Aww, thanks. I bet you’re more clever than you look too.”

Yep. Smart-ass.

There was a mixed reaction from the Hunters - some startled coughs, quite a few winces, even a whimper from the back, but Krogan didn’t lash out.

He sighed, looking weary for a moment. “I honestly don’t need either of you alive, despite Viggo’s insistence that you will draw Hiccup in. I am sure he’ll come back for the girl alone, whether she’s alive or dead. Revenge can be just as powerful as love, and equally devastating to the clarity of one’s mind.”

Astrid’s blood ran cold. Hiccup was vengeful - he’d proven that with Viggo. His head was clear and focused when he had an idea - a purpose. But with no other recourse but avenging her death …? They would bring him down.

She glowered at Viggo, who actually had the gall to look vaguely guilty.

“Well,” said Tuffnut. “Not for nothing, but that was a real spine tingler. Have you been taking menacing dialogue lessons from Viggo?”

Krogan looked at him quizzically. Apparently Tuffnut didn’t have the expected reaction. Of course he didn’t - when did he ever?

“I know you heard me clearly, boy. And that you did not hear how useful  to me you would be - dead or alive.”

“Uh, I heard, yeah. Or did … not hear. That’s confusing, wow. Anyway, the only reason we’re still alive now is because you need two of us to torture, because if one completely shuts down from the pain, the other one is going to care enough to spill all the beans for their sake, right?”

Krogan stared and blinked, completely thrown.

“Hah, so predictable,” Tuff stage-whispered to Astrid. He straightened to look Krogan in the eye. “Okay, so bring on the torture already. My body is ready!”

Astrid gaped at him. “Tuff, what are you doing!?”

He didn’t answer, but Astrid felt him tremble slightly as Krogan stepped closer to loom over him. Her stomach dropped at his grin, realizing what Tuff was trying to do. For them … for her.

“Interesting. You have no fear at all. I’m certain that will change shortly. I’m wondering - is Miss Hofferson your second-in-command, or are you two perhaps seeing each other behind Hiccup’s back?”

Astrid opened her mouth to hurl indignation, but Tuff kicked her ankle lightly and refused to answer, just staring back at Krogan and giving a shrug. “Never really thought about it. Hey, Astrid, wanna date behind Hiccup’s back?”

She blinked, momentarily too startled to reply, then kicked him in the ankle - much harder than necessary. Tuff yelped and a moment later Astrid felt a twinge of guilt as she realized how he’d just covered for both of them.

Krogan wasn’t just baiting them to get a rise - he was gathering information. Tuff had given him barely any to go on, and even that much was incorrect. Since Astrid was Hiccup’s second in command, it would have been assumed no boy in her patrol would dare talk to her that way.

“Hmm. So you don’t really know much in the affairs of men, do you, Hofferson? Hiccup keeps all his plans and schemes out of your dainty little hands - to protect you from knowing too much should you get captured? Is that it, missy?” He taunted.

Rage bubbled up and Astrid nearly started cussing Krogan out like a soldier, but a crunch on her instep made her eyes water instead. Gods, Tuff was viciously repaying her for that last kick.

“Hey! Don’t you call her that! Only **I** can call her ‘missy’, and in a _much_ nicer tone than that!”

Deflecting. He was deflecting, bringing Krogan attention back around to himself.

It definitely did him no favors; Krogan backhanded him hard enough to make Tuff bleed. His nose was pressed against Astrid’s ear for just a moment, long enough to hear a nearly inaudible squeak of terror before Krogan hit him again - snapping his face to the right.

Astrid gasped and struggled against the ropes, thinking only of throwing her arms around Tuff and shielding him from further pain. Tuffnut looked up at the man defiantly and Astrid heard herself actually whimper with fear for him.

_Don’t say anything else, please, please - look scared, don’t give him another reason …_

She was aware she didn’t look like Astrid the Fearless right now. To Krogan, she likely seemed just a silly little girl who’d run off to join a rebellious Dragon-Rider vigilante, and was dating their leader.

As humiliating as it was, the lie shielded her from being a person of interest as far as torture went, and it was the best one Tuff had managed to weave for her at such short notice.

She resented him for it … and she also couldn’t.

Krogan stared Tuff down, chuckling when he didn’t avert his eyes. He raised a hand suddenly, which made Tuff flinch hard against her. The chuckle turned into a full throated mocking laugh and Astrid had honestly never hated anyone more in existence.

The other Hunters laughed as well, until Krogan cut them off with a curt order.

“Get me the tools.”

———

Her back ached.

Astrid straightened in the chair and stretched her arms over her head, then resumed her vigil, resting elbows on her knees and face in her hands as she watched the sleeping boy.

They had been rescued nearly too late - though by her definition ‘too late’ was the moment Krogan’s horrible silver instruments had made blood well up under Tuff’s skin - had made him finally scream.

The Typhoomerang’s mate had helped them first - appearing suddenly in their midst from the tree line. It was a diversion from Hiccup’s precision attack on Krogan’s camp, and it worked brilliantly. Viggo had conveniently vanished as soon as their dragons started blasting the area around them free of men.

Astrid had no idea how in all the chaos their bonds had been suddenly cut - probably one of Stormfly’s spines. It hardly mattered anyway.

They were home now and Tuff was going to be okay.

Right until he woke up, because then she was going to kill him.

It had been seven hours now, and the first morning light was turning the sky a rosy gray. Gothi had been sent for, but between Heather and Fishlegs’ healing salves and herbal teas, Tuff was already as comfortable as he could be. Astrid had sent Ruff to bed to get some sleep, and for some odd reason - after an irritatingly long searching look - she’d allowed it.

Astrid stilled at a noise outside the hut. If it was Hiccup coming to talk her into going to bed, he was out of luck. She wasn’t budging from Tuff’s side until he opened those gray eyes of his and said something ridiculous, so she had an excuse to punch an injured person.

For now it was just her alone with her thoughts - and they weren’t very good ones.

She’d thought she’d seen bravery in all its forms - on the faces of Viking men and women who rushed into battle to protect their homes. On Hiccup’s face as he faced off alone against the Red Death, with Toothless. On his face when he’d tried walking around the village on that leg the first time.

She’d seen it on Tuff’s face before too, but never so much as tonight - when there was just him and Krogan’s gleaming tools and no guarantee of survival.

And he had been fearless for her sake.

Astrid felt a stab of guilt - that it had surprised her so much what he was capable of. She found herself reaching down to adjust the blanket that had slid down his chest, knuckles brushing across the shallow cuts and gashes and blood blisters, so far avoiding the urge to pull it down and catalogue the damage.

She had tried - honestly tried - to redirect some of that pain onto herself through insults, curses, anything she could think of to infuriate Krogan. His response had been to stuff a wad of fabric into her mouth and keep his ministrations centered on Tuff.

Her hands rebelled finally, disobediently tugging the covers down, looking for injury on every inch of new skin the blankets exposed. All the way down to his thighs, his body was a map of pain - ridges and gashes made up the land borders, and a dozen colorful bruises for the seas.

All that, and he had been so _brave_  - he had given nothing up to Krogan. 

Astrid’s face flushed and she sat by his hip, quite forgetting herself as she leaned down to press her forehead against Tuff’s. She felt weak and dizzy for reasons she never wanted to analyze.

Tuff’s lashes twitched. She held her breath as his eyes opened, looking around blankly in a hazy sort of panic. They softened and seemed to clear when they landed on her.

“Oh good. You didn’t choke on Krogan’s socks after all. Okay.”

His eyes rolled up, tipping back gracefully into unconsciousness.

Astrid sputtered, nonplussed. “They weren’t his - it was just a piece of cloth … Tuff?” It was no use; he was out for some much needed rest. She gently brushed cool fingers across his cheek, trying to soothe the vivid bruise blooming there.

“You’re crazy,” she muttered softly, fondly. “Thank you.”

A soft snore was her only answer.


	35. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump Prompt: Hypothermia (Heather & Tuffnut)

It was so incredibly dark.

Tuff hadn’t ever imagined the sea was black under all that peaceful blue - but here he was, sinking down into it helplessly. Even if he could swim, the metal he was wearing made him sink like a stone, and what little remained of the sunlight no longer reached the depth he was in.

As the darkness filled his senses, a spot of gleaming silver piercing the inky blackness -coming straight down after him like a hurled spear. Tuff reached for it desperately, but his lungs couldn't hold out any longer. Breath escaped at last, bubbles going up, and he kicked weakly after them, glad he at least had a direction to strive for even if it was hopeless.

The last thing he thought of was whether his sister was okay.

—–

They’d been separated, blown apart by the storm twice - even after Astrid had dragged Ruff and the Twins’ Zippleback out of the water, and shouted after Heather that Tuff wasn’t anywhere.

Heart racing, she and Windshear dove down without a second thought, seeing the barest glimpse of gold hair disappearing before her eyes. When she and Windshear resurfaced, the unconscious trickster in her arms, Astrid was calling her name faintly over the wild gales of wind.

She called back, frantic, but the wind was louder. There wasn’t time to go searching for Astrid; her friend would know what to do for Ruffnut, and Barf and Belch. Tuff’s lips were blue and he was as pale as the first snow of winter. She had to get him someplace warm, and fast.

Windshear navigated through the storm as swiftly as she could, fully aware of the urgency. They found an island key that was little better than a glorified sand bar, but her Razorwhip spread her giant wings around them, providing shelter from the icy winds.

It was nerve-wrackingly silent, save for the storm and the occasional noise of debris glancing off her dragon’s metallic scales. Heather wasted no time starting a fire and dragged a few blankets and her bedroll off Windshear’s back. They'd been in a sack soaked with paraffin, so they were dry as they could be save for a few damp spots.

She pulled Tuff’s clothing and boots off, dragging him onto the bedroll so he would have something between him and the snow covered ground, then lay his clothing near the fire, before stripping out of her own wet things.

There was no time to think, no time to feel any shyness, as she curled around Tuff, pulling the blankets around both of them. He was so cold, but she could hear him breathing, and soon enough he was coming to with a rasping wet cough that made Heather wince.

She was going to have to make some herbal tea for them both later.

Heather's arms wrapped around Tuff’s ribs and she pulled her friend closer, pressing her skin against his.

“Ruff?!” he called out, voice weak but frantic.

“She’s with Astrid - and your dragon. It’ll be okay, Tuff - I’m sure they’re heading back to the closest island.”

He let out what sounded like a tired sob, and she reached up to pull his wet hair out of his face. It was warm in the circle of Windshear’s wings, and Heather could feel her fingers and toes beginning to prickle unpleasantly as warmth returned to them.

Poor Tuff had been submerged in that icy death-trap for much longer; he was likely to have that over his entire body soon enough. She heard his distressed moan and hugged him, murmuring soothingly.

“Are -Are there tiny little elves stabbing me with their knives right now? Or maybe I pissed the _tomte_ off … forgot to leave out cream last night …”

Heather found herself smiling, shaking her head fondly. “It’s just feeling returning to your body,” she explained. "I know it's uncomfortable, but it’s a good thing.”

“Ruff is okay, right?” Tuff asked again, sounding a bit hazy.

“Last I saw, she was with Astrid,” Heather explained again, patiently. He was disoriented and very worried, and she couldn’t blame him. Tuff didn’t reply, giving a soft groan and she wondered whether he’d processed that information this time either.

 “Hey, Tuff, stay with me,” the Berserker girl urged, shaking him a little. “You need to stay awake. Do you need to -”

Tuff’s chest heaved, sudden and violently, and Heather swore as he pulled away from her to cough out bilge water over the side of the bedroll.

She followed him and wrapped her arms around his body again, helping him stay upright. Tuffnut tried to speak once or twice, but only ended up coughing - until it seemed his lungs would follow the clear water.

Shivering (finally - another good sign) Tuff leaned back in her arms and let her cocoon them both again, pulling him flush against her chest.

“I thought the water I coughed up would be black …” he finally managed to say. “It was so dark down there … like another world. I’ll have to tell Ruff that her hypothesis was correct. All water is clear - no matter what level of the sea it’s from …”

Tuff sounded like he was babbling, but it was interesting - more so than the awkward conversation they _could_ be having.

“Hypothesis?” Heather prompted.

“Y-Yeah. Ruff has all these journals - kinda like Hiccup. But she doesn’t use them for writing her feelings or anything - just a bunch of questions and theories. She likes doing experiments to figure out the answer to those questions - and sometimes I get to help. And field studies. I don’t always understand the words she uses, but she’s really smart … I think maybe someday, she can be a healer, like Gothi.”

Heather blinked, not just at the fondness and pride in Tuff’s voice when he talked about his twin, but also at the fact Ruffnut appeared to be such a lover of science. Honestly, she never would have guessed. She loved chemistry and herbology, herself … Maybe she and Ruff needed to get together and compare notes, or just hang out.

“I can see that, actually. She’d still whack people with her staff, I’m betting.”

Tuff snickered. “If she doesn’t, then I will. That will be my only job - I’ll just stand there while she treats the patient, and if I don’t like their surliness? Bam! Staff to the face. I think it’s a good calling for me. Loki would approve.”

Heather was giggling for real now, burying her face against Tuffs shoulder. “If they don’t like you guys, you could always come to Berserker island? Be staff-wielding healers there. I’m sure you’d fit right in.”

“Don’t think I can’t see right through you, little miss. You just want to see me take a free whack at your big brother’s head.” His voice was teasing, playful - she could hear the grin spreading across his face without having to see it.

She burst out laughing, and squeezed his ribs. “I actually hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right - that would be pretty hilarious.”

Tuff’s body was starting to feel warm - and now both were shivering, meaning they were both on their way to recovery. Once their clothing dried, once the storm broke, they could search for the others and head home.

For now, they had each other and a fire and Windshear’s sheltering wings. Tuffnut eventually fell asleep, nestled against her and breathing more evenly than he had been earlier. She had every intention of making sure he drank something hot, but it would have to be later.

His soft snores brought an unexpected warmth to her heart, that seemed to make up for the faint aching chill in her bones. Sighing in contentment, Heather let her eyes drift shut and joined him in slumber.


	36. Broken Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump!Prompts: Losing someone or something precious to them (Tuffnut & Snotlout)

He hadn’t _meant_ for any of this to happen. 

Snotlout should have known though - he should have _known_ \- that telling his visiting father he was best friends with one of the Riders was an awful idea. An even worse idea had been telling his father which one.

“A Thorston? My son, best friends with one of the most embarrassing, worthless, thrall-born clan of Vikings that ever set sail for Berk? They’re all thieves, robbers and land-border shifters - you know that boy in particular has been in jail more times than I can count! He’ll bring you down to his level - and the Jorgenson name with it!”

“But Dad - he and Ruff aren’t like the rest of their family! Hiccup trusts them!” Snotlout knew his argument was weak to his own ears, and he hated it. The sneer if derision on Spitelouts face only made him feel small and stupid for daring to have a different opinion.

“Pah! Your cousin trusts everyone! Alvin, the Skrill, Viggo - and now he even calls Dagur the Deranged ‘Brother’! He wants to think the best of everyone, but I know better. There needs be no union of friendship between Jorgensons and Thorstons, not now or ever! The next time you see him, you tell that boy -”

“Tell who what?” 

Snotlout jumped and turned with dismay to the Clubhouse door, as Tuff walked in with Chicken nestled in his arms. “Not a good time, Tuff,” Snotlout warned through grit teeth, but it was too late. Spitelout had set his sights on a new target.

Tuffnut likewise stopped, eyes narrowing a bit at Snotlout’s company.

“Oh, hey, Spitelout. How can we all disappoint you today?” he remarked dryly.

“Well, you showed up, didn’t you?” the man returned and Tuffnut wrinkled his nose in distaste. Snotlout shrunk down, mortified. He couldn’t say anything - he couldn’t _make_ himself say anything - and his brain calling him a coward for it certainly didn’t make his paralysis go away.

“Okay, then.” Tuff’s scowl disappeared as he looked at Snotlout, replaced by his usual bright smile. “Hey, Snotlout, I found another part of the cave that was sealed behind a wall. You aren’t going to believe the cool stuff I found in there - let’s go check it out.”

He was offering an escape. Likely Tuff hadn’t actually found anything of value, but if it sounded like it could be treasure, Spitelout would be more likely to let him go. Snotlout felt a twinge of gratitude, mixed with horror. One look at Spitelout’s face told him the man wasn’t about to be dismissed so easily.

“What gives you the right to talk to my son that way?”

“We’re friends. Best friends, might I add.” 

Spitelout stared at him flatly, and so naturally Tuff decided to interpret that as a look of confusion. “Oh. That means we hang out, talk to each other, trade secrets - sometimes there’s back rubs. Yeah, those are pretty nice.” 

Tuff trailed off as his father continued to stare wordlessly. “Has your dad ever had a best friend before?” he stage-whispered to Snotlout. 

Mortified and knowing this was about to end so very badly, Snotlout just looked down to stare at his shoes.

“Oh, I have had one or two of those, yes. Trustworthy friends, that didn’t belong to a clan of dirty, mouth-breathing imbeciles.” Spitelout bit out each insulting name as though enjoying the taste of it. 

Tuff flared, unable to ignore the unsubtle dig at his family. Even Chicken puffed up, clucking ominously. “Do you have a problem with me or just my clan?”

“Oh, all of the above, Tuffnut.” Spitelout stepped forward, beginning to circle him. “Particularly with the idea of you calling yourself a friend to my son, when you aren’t even fit to be an unofficial acquaintance.”

“Well, to be fair, neither are you really. Yet here you are, calling yourself his _Dad_ , so …” Tuff shrugged. 

Snotlout was cursing under his breath, even before Spitelout’s face took on a furious expression, looking like an angry thunderhead. 

“Speaking of, how is _your_ father, boyo? Last I heard, he was passed out drunk in a sheep pen with his trousers down. They had to send for Gothi to wake him up.”

It was a bizarre and almost childish accusation, so unlike the barbs his father _could_ give that Snotlout let a relieved bark of laughter. He soon regretted it at Tuff’s crestfallen look, as those soft gray eyes gazed back at him. Wait, Spitelout hadn’t been speaking the truth had he? 

Snotlout winced, belatedly remembering how the Twins were reluctant to really talk about their father. Apparently they were a lot closer to their mom’s side of the family - the Nutt Clan, which was tame by comparison to the Thorstons. He turned his face down again, not wanting to see the pain in Tuffnut’s eyes at his continued silence.

“That’s what I thought,” Spitelout grinned. “If my son ever agreed to be your friend - your best friend - it was likely a moment in which he lost his senses. That, or of charitable pity. If you want a friend who’s closer to your level of intelligence and worth, you and your kind should really just …” Spitelout made a gesture toward Chicken, still bristling in Tuff’s trembling arms. “Stick to farm animals.”

Tuffnut swallowed, eyes brimming over with hot tears, but he refused to turn his face away - humiliation keeping him frozen in place and also from verbally retaliating. 

Chicken, however, had no such problem. With an angry volatile series of squawks, she launched herself out of Tuff’s hands and into Spitelout’s face, clawing with her talons and beating the man around the head with her wings.

Honestly, being shown up by a chicken in the bravery department rubbed Snotlout a bit sore, but all that was completely beside the point when Spitelout managed to grab the hen by the neck.

“All except this one, who’s going to be my supper for tonight!”

“NO!” Tuff wailed, lunging forward, but Spitelout raised her out of his reach. 

Snotlout tensed, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but his father gave him a hard look - one that promised he’d regret it. After all, Spitelout was doing him a favor, wasn’t he? Getting rid of an unworthy friend - someone Snotlout clearly didn’t have the guts to get rid of himself. 

Always saving the day, his father, even when Snotlout _never_ wanted him to.

Tuffnut glanced at him, eyes pleading and wide with horror, already seeming to know that his supposed best friend wouldn’t - _couldn’t_ \- stand up for him. He grimaced and turned to square up against Spitelout. 

“Give her back!!” Tuffnut warned. His chicken was flapping her wings frantically in the man’s hold, trying to get away.

“Did you know how easy it would be to snap her neck right now?” Spitelout countered, and Tuff seemed to deflate, all the fight going after him with a sob. “Answer me one question, boyo. If you had to choose between being Snotlout’s friend and having your pet back safe and sound, which would it be?”

Tuffnut hesitated and Spitelout squeezed the bird’s neck, making her squawk in a panic. "Chicken! I choose Chicken, please, please don’t hurt her -” he cried out, hitching desperately and holding out his arms beseechingly.

“Well, that was depressingly easy.” Spitelout all but threw the hen at Tuff, and he caught her, backing away from both Jorgensons with a stricken expression. Satisfied, Spitelout gave a smirk. “You see my point, son? You don’t need to depend on someone who’s going to choose _poultry_ over you. Isn't that right?”

"R-Right, Dad." He managed, smoothing his voice to mimic confidence. "I don't need this loser at all."

Spitelout looked pleased enough, and Snotlout swallowed hard, watching his father stride away toward his dragon. He hesitantly turned to look at Tuff. The Thorston had his face hidden behind a curtain of his hair, but at the Jorgenson’s approach, he looked up with a terrible cold anger in his eyes. Tuffnut just glared at him - the ferocity dampened a bit by his tear-streaked face. 

Without saying a word, Tuff turned from him and left the Clubhouse. 

Snotlout didn’t follow him, knowing it was useless, and reeling silently from what he had just lost. 


	37. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump!Prompts: Falling gravely ill/feverish (Heather, Dagur & the Dragon Riders)

Alone … again.

She’d been out here all alone for years, and Heather could have sworn she’d gotten used to it. Survival was what she knew, what she _did_ \- and if it wasn’t for Windshear, Heather wasn’t even sure she would have tried to survive. Not after losing her family the way she had.

All the love she had for her dragon couldn’t save her from this though - the fire that raged through her veins and clouded her mind, her judgement. There were herbs she knew could save her life, some just beyond the cave wall. Feverfew and yarrow and wild garlic grew in clusters just a stones throw away, yet she was too weak to even crawl …

A figure hovered over her, pressing a cold cloth to her forehead. Heather moaned with relief, eyes cracking open a sliver as she heard liquid being poured into a cup. It smelled like tea - had she brewed some earlier? Who was …?

“Mom?” Heather rasped, voice sounding much younger than she was.

A brief awkward silence was her answer. “Do you … remember her?” A man asked, and his voice was all too familiar.

Heather felt a new kind of heat flare up in her body - anger giving her the strength to haul herself upright. “You!” she spat, hand groping beneath a pillow for her axe. Her search came up with nothing - of course Dagur had taken her only weapon! Just like the sneaky, dishonorable _fiend_ he was -

“Fire-mouth tea?” Dagur offered, holding the cup beneath Heather’s nose before she could throw a punch. “The Twins helped me make it. It’s spicy but the pepper seeds should help burn out the … the tiny creatures making you sick. At least that’s how Girlnut put it, except she sounded like she knew what she was talking about.” 

Her brother shrugged, helplessly. "I’m sorry, sister. I’ve tried every other remedy I know. Gothi should be visiting tomorrow, before sundown. Hopefully this will help until then. Please drink it? Everyone’s so worried about you …”

… Everyone? But her village was … 

A blond head stuck through the doorway to her room (not a cave? Where was her dragon?) and grinned. 

“Hey, her eyes are open! That’s a good sign right? Hey, Ruff! Astrid! Get your giant butts in here!” 

“Boynut, keep it down -” Dagur tried to demand, but the worry in his voice made it sound like a plea.  

She blinked, too confused to take any action as she processed the surreallness of her mortal enemy having his hair casually ruffled by Tuff’s fingers, as her friend breezed past him to sit near her bed.

“Come on, Heather, you can beat this. You’re gonna have to because your brother can’t get in there and punch all those germs. There’s just too many of them … he’d be overpowered by all your snot.”

“Did someone call my name? Was it Heather?” Snotlout pushed his way into the room, nearly mowing down Astrid and Ruff, who’d just reached the doorway. They both slapped at him until he retreated, yelling complaints at being not let in the room. 

Heather looked around in confusion, and then at Dagur, fevered mind trying and failing to stack the events of her life in any semblance of order. There had been … a ship yard. Right. And then …

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she let out a confused sob. “Dagur?”

He stopped glaring irritably at the chaos trying to break into the room (now  Fishlegs was trying to get in past Snotlout) and turned back to Heather, smiling at her reassuringly. “You’re safe. We’re at the Edge now - Windshear and Mr. Triplestryke got us out of that storm. Don’t worry. They’re safe too - nice and warm in the stables - but your RazorWhip has been out of her mind with worry. Kind of surprised she hasn’t broken the walls down trying to get to you.”

Tuff gasped, eyes lighting up at that. Dagur gave him a quelling look. “Fine,” the trickster sulked, crossing his arms and pouting mildly.

Astrid gently took her hand, and it was then that Heather truly felt calmed. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for days, Heather. Sorry for crowding your room - we were all so worried, and the storm wouldn’t let us send for Gothi until it broke this morning.”

“Oh,” she heard herself say. A fluffed pillow was suddenly put behind her head by large, gentle hands. Ruff had allowed Fishlegs inside, but not Snotlout - she was still holding the dark-haired boy at arms length with a palm to the face.

Dagur again offered the tea, smiling that friendly lopsided grin she’d grown to trust and even love, while Tuff had decided to entertain himself by braiding stray locks of her hair - to keep it from getting tangled. 

It was overwhelming, how much love was surrounding her right now. Every bit of strength she possessed was going into not letting herself cry.

Heather took the tea from Dagur, eyes too bright but definitely no longer feeling alone.


	38. By Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump!Prompts: Tortured by the Enemy (Tuffnut)

“For the last time,” the Hunter gritted out - clearly a man near the end of his patience. "Where on this island did your leader hide the Dragon Eye lenses?”

Tuff stared back at him, making sure his eyes were dull and glazed, giving off a witless demeanor. “Wait - are you saying … you can take the Dragon Eye apart? Wow. That must make cleaning it so much easier. And also it would explain why it sounded like a bunch of tiny pebbles the last time I gave it a good shake …”

The Hunters scowl broke off into a pained wince at that, and Tuffnut nearly laughed in the man’s face. Let him think the Dragon Eye was broken - that would actually work out for them better if they thought so. Also, he was glad he wouldn’t be _that_ particular messenger to Krogan.

A hand gripped Tuff’s face hard, nearly cutting his lip against his own teeth. “If _anything_ has happened to those lenses … you had better be lying.” The Hunter gave him a harsh shake and let him go - which, given as how he was tied upside down by the ankles from a beam in the Clubhouse, sent him swinging. 

“Hey, I didn’t know there was fragile material in that thing. If it’s so important, you should have maybe put some padding in there before you decided to leave it on some abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere.” Tuff shrugged as best as he could with his hands tied behind his back. 

He was used to hanging upside down, but someone who wasn’t would have had to deal with dizziness and a pounding headache on top of everything else. Not that he didn’t actually have both of those things going on, but he was used to it.

Tuff was glad he’d been caught for interrogation rather than anyone else. To be honest, he couldn’t imagine Fishlegs or Snotlout being any good in this kind of situation. Likewise, Astrid would be too feisty, and Hiccup would be way too sassy - they’d hurt him terribly. He knew Ruff would be just as brave as he was, if not ten times more - but there was no way he’d ever trade places with his twin right now.

His interrogator snorted and picked something up from the table just below him - the same round table he and his friends sat around most nights, laughing and telling stories. It was spattered with droplets of his own blood. Tuff wondered if it would all blend in eventually - made indistinguishable over time by spilled mead and gravy.

He flinched as a few logs of wood were thrown into the fire pit in the middle of the table. “Huh, good idea. It is supposed to be a bit chilly tonight,” he said, though his stomach squirmed with unease as the man ignored him, starting to build the fire.

In a few minutes, the man had a decent one going, and the smoke was getting in Tuff’s eyes, burning unpleasantly. He tested his bonds, suppressing a low whine of discomfort - not liking at all where this was going. This guy was obviously one of the more creative Hunters; Tuffnut had to give him that at least. 

Soon enough, the fire was cheerful and roaring, and Tuff’s face was only hanging a few feet above it, smoke billowing in his face and making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t help his squirming, trying to pull his body further up toward the beam. His stomach muscles were cramped and tired, and he tried to switch his weight to his legs.

For as long as he could, he endured it in silence, while the Hunter smirked knowingly up at him. "Is it warm enough to jog your memory yet?” the man taunted.

“Eh, I don’t know. What was I - ow - trying to remember again?”

The Hunter shrugged, and tossed another log on top of the pyre, sending sparks flying up into Tuff’s face. The boy squirmed, writhing his bonds. 

“You know, I’m not sure. What were you trying to remember? Let me know if you figure it out. I’m going to have a nice cool mug of mead and relax for a bit.”

The Hunter leaned back in his chair, and Tuff tried not to stare longingly at the mug as he poured himself a portion of mead, even putting ice chips in it. Tuff didn’t care at this point if it was yak dung tea - so long as it was cold, his body yearned for it desperately.

His eyes narrowed as his interrogator took a long sip, belched, and wiped his mouth before looking up. Tuff was suffering, but quietly - sweat dripping from his body and making the flames hiss. Coupled with hanging upside down, this was probably worse than any torment in Niflheim. 

He saw movement below and was aware enough to see the Hunter return the object he’d moved earlier - using it to prod the logs and send more smoke and embers flying up into Tuff’s face. 

Tuffnut couldn’t help crying out at that, shutting his stinging eyes and trying to flinch away. He was getting too tired to pull himself up and cramps were tearing down his sides and through his calves. A plea made it out of his mind and to the tip of his tongue, but Tuff refused to let out anything more than a whimper.

“Well, you sound like you’re definitely giving it some thought. Tell you what. I’m going to finish my mead, and if you haven’t remembered anything useful by the time I do, I’ll use my knife to cut you down from there.” His tone sounded friendly enough, but there was an underlying menace behind his words.

The fire beneath Tuff was roaring and he doubted the man was being anything but literal. He’d likely survive the landing itself on the flaming logs, but as exhausted as he was, Tuff wasn’t confident he could move his body out of the pit quickly enough to avoid severe burns. He also knew better than to think the man would help him at all.

As if to prompt him to think faster, the man lifted the mug to his lips and drank deeply. Tuff could only imagine how heavenly it felt, sliding down his throat to splash cool soothing liquid against his insides.

The man’s blue eyes opened, sensing him watching and meeting Tuff’s wide gray eyes - which were actually starting to tear up much to his personal mortification.

“Fish-Fishlegs had a few lenses in his hut. He was studying them and forgot to give them back to Hiccup. It-It’s the hut with the nice flowers and mud bath.”

Technically true, but Fishlegs had long since given the lenses back by now - even if he had borrowed them months ago. No, they were all safely hidden in the mounted boar’s head, in the cave Tuff had showed to Snotlout, and later Hiccup. Tuff wasn’t thrilled he’d even _appeared_ to give in, but the man shrugged and stood up, stretching. 

Almost as an afterthought, he poured the mead from the mug into his hand and held it up to let Tuff drink - as though he was a dog. Droplets of the cold amber liquid hit the flames, hissing as they burned. Although he tried to resist the temptation, Tuff’s parched lips pressed against the Hunters palm, almost as though he had no free will - sucking up as much of the liquid as he could.

The man chuckled and took his hand away - when there was still some left to drink. Tuff whined, causing his tormentor to laugh even harder as he walked away.

“Where are you going?!” the trickster yelped.

“To go check out that hut, of course. I’ll search it thoroughly, maybe take a mud bath myself while I’m at it. Sounds rather refreshing, doesn’t it? If I don’t find anything, I’ll come back to cut you down, like I said, and we’ll try something new. If I do find something, well I’ll be sure to let Krogan know how helpful you’ve been. That fire should die eventually … hopefully before you do.”

He walked away, leaving Tuff to panic internally. He redoubled his efforts to break out of his bonds, but he felt weaker than a baby Night Terror and the ropes were slick with sweat. 

Tuffnut stared into the flames below, forced to accept the uncertainty on whether he was going to survive. Even if he did by the time that Hunter got back, he didn’t imagine the guy would be too thrilled to have found nothing. 

Pulse pounding, he almost missed the subtle movement in the shadows outside the Clubhouse. However there was no mistaking the sudden feeling of warmth and fierce protectiveness that reached out to curl around his frightened heart  - promising him that everything was going to be okay.

Tuff let out a relieved gasping sob. “Tw-Twintuition?” he managed, cracking the barest smile.

A pair of blue eyes - miles friendlier than the last pair he’d seen - peered at him through the slats of the Clubhouse, and his sister smiled back at him.


	39. Sting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump!Prompts: Injured in Battle (Astrid)

She was _fine,_ really _-_ there was nothing at all to worry about. The others were going to be here any second, and all she had to do was not think about the knife slash in her thigh, and how the wound gaped open like a broken-jawed mouth.

Astrid had grown up in a war zone full of dying dragons and people - she had seen worse. Seeing worse on another person was a far cry from experiencing it herself, though. There were still enemies around her though - searching for her. They were searching the brush, calling to each other as they stomped their heavy boots over and through the foliage. Not exactly stealthy - but then they weren’t trying to be stealthy. They were hoping she or her dragon would panic - flushing them out like some hapless birds of prey.

 _An intimidation tactic_ , as Tuff would likely blurt out if he were near. He might have even pronounced it correctly.

Gods, she hoped she lived to see her friends again.

Astrid kept still, as did Stormfly - the Nadders tail at the ready to hurl spines as needed. They were far enough that she could try and stop the bleeding, but the cut was deep enough that pressure just wasn’t enough to stem the flow. She wouldn’t die from the wound, but if she and Stormfly had to move through the brush, the blood would mark a clear trail for the Dragon Hunters.

Absently, she wondered what course the others would take in this situation. It helped to quell the terror simmering in her chest as she heard her foes draw nearer. 

Surrender was out of the question. Astrid doubted these men were merciful - the kind of time she could buy herself by giving up wouldn’t be spent sitting in a cozy cell. Krogan was nothing like Viggo; his men would kill her swiftly, if she was lucky.

She couldn’t use her dragon to intimidate and fly away either; there were Singetail patrols flying over the canopy. They’d shoot her down in no time.

What she needed was trickery.

Thank Thor she and Tuffnut had spent some time sparring after they’d defended the Edge together; they’d learned quite a bit from each other. One of the things she'd learned was the  _Art of Diversion_ \- or so Tuff had called it, using some kind of ridiculous accent.

Astrid peered through the leaves and up, where a huge wasp nest hung from a sturdy branch. The busy insects were active all around it, which meant it wasn’t a dead overwintered nest.

She grinned and nudged Stormfly until her Nadder glanced up at the nest as well. It would only take one carefully aimed spine shot, and the nest would fall almost on top of the Hunters.

Stormfly nailed it, and Astrid breathed out her nose, relaxing as it hit the forest floor, sending an angry cloud of wasps up into the air. The Hunters reacted with anger and fear as they were stung - which only seemed to encourage the idea that this was their doing. The hive attacked with impunity, but Astrid and Stormfly remained calm - knowing acting guilty would get them stung just the same as the Hunters. 

The men ran away from the area and the swarm fanning out around Astrid’s hiding place and giving the furious wasps a wide berth. Good; they’d apparently figured she and the Nadder would have run if they were there. Astrid picked some fresh leaves and pressed them to her thigh. One half of her leggings were soaked with blood, and Stormfly crooned very softly, lowering her head to nuzzle Astrid’s hand away from the wound.

She snorted the leaves away and licked away the old and new blood as well as debris, as though she was bathing a hatchling. It stung, but Astrid couldn’t see how letting her do it harmed anything. 

The Hunters had moved on - their yells sounding furious, now that it seemed she’d gotten away from impossible odds. There were a few careful sweeps of the enemy patrol - but they stayed down and out of sight for what felt like an hour. 

Astrid could still hear them and she didn’t want to move until they had gone farther. Her leg was hot and she would give her axe for some water to drink, and bathe her feverish skin with.

It would get dark eventually. She knew their best chance to escape would be after the sun set - when they could stick to long shadows. The girl wondered if she’d even be able to stand up by then, and was trying to come up with an alternative plan when she heard a tentative voice calling her name. 

Rather than call out herself, she let Stormfly make a distress call. In moments, Toothless had bounded over the brush, like a cat bouncing through snow drifts and was nuzzling her face with happy trills. 

Hiccup’s relieved laughter filled her ears and Astrid tried her damndest to keep back a few sobbing laughs of her own. 

She was going to see home after all.


	40. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuffnut takes a page from Astrid's book. (A book she refuses to admit she ever wrote.)

“Tuffnut, I am serious, you have GOT to stop doing this!” Hiccup didn’t rant at the Twins too often, knowing it was no use. But this time he was genuinely worried.

“I mean, yes - you were awesome while using my flight suit and fighting Gruffnut, even though I’m still searching the ocean for it -”

Tuff shrugged. "Gruffnut’s fault. He threw it.”

“Yeah and you borrowed it without asking!”

"No, Gruffnut borrowed it while he was snooping around in your hut. And then he couldn’t figure out how to use it and didn’t want to get caught with it, so he put it on me when he switched our clothes … on my unconscious body … Ugh, I’m so taking a bath tonight. I don’t think I ever really thought about that … 

Astrid snorted, leaning against the Clubhouse wall with her arms crossed. “It is a pretty disturbing thought,” she agreed with him.

“Right, fine, it’s no big deal. I can make another one. The point is, Tuffnut, you cannot keep jumping off dragons in midair, plummeting to your likely death, and just waiting for the Gods to save you!” Hiccup yelled. “If Dagur hadn’t been there to save you -”

“Then I wouldn’t have fallen off,” Tuff said, with a matter of fact tone that made everyone stop and stare. Except Ruffnut. 

Ruff just smacked her forehead. “You aren’t supposed to admit that, dummy! You are so lucky they went home after helping us with the Zippleback migration!” For good measure, she smacked her brother’s forehead too.

“Ow! Oh, let me guess, it’s only romantic to fall off a dragon and get caught by your crush if it’s Astrid?!”

Whatever she’d been about to say - which was likely a tirade against how careless her friend had been - left Astrid’s mind completely. “Ex-Excuse me?!?”

“We all know what all that was now. I mean, you - little miss Watch As I Flawlessly Jump from Nadder to Razor-Whip in Mid Air  - constantly ‘falling’ off dragons, so Hiccup could catch you.”

Hiccup paused before dismissing Tuff’s statement and glanced her way. “You know, Astrid? He does have a point …” 

“I - no he doesn’t!” Astrid snapped, flustered. “I fell out of Stormfly’s saddle completely by accident.”

“Really? All twelve times in the past six months? Yeah, I counted,” Ruffnut smirked. She accepted a hi-five each from her brother and a chuckling Snotlout.

"Come on, Astrid, why deny it? You should be flattered I’m taking a page out of your own ‘How to Catch a Hottie’ manual.”

Hiccup turned to give Tuff a weird look. “Uh, I’m sorry, the **_what_** manual?!”

“Oh, please, don’t act like Astrid’s the only one to ever flirt with you,” Snotlout laughed, grinning. He nudged Tuff’s shin. “He couldn’t shut up about you for weeks after that Changewing kiss.”

“For the last time, I was _hypnotized_!” Hiccup shouted, having completely lost the plot by now. 

“Ah, yes, mon ami, and then - for a short time - so too was I,” Tuffnut answered goofily. “But then I got over it. No offense, H, I’ve just moved on to bigger, more dangerous, tattooed, red-headed things.” 

Hiccup palmed his face and looked to Astrid for help. There was none there; Astrid had a hand over her eyes, her cheeks were red, and she was muttering a stream of invective under her breath that was mostly aimed at the Twins.

“D’ahh, you know what? That’s it - I am officially making a flight suit for every single Rider. So this can’t happen - whether accidentally or on purpose - anymore!” Hiccup growled. 

“Huh. Notice he said ‘single’ Rider instead of ‘taken’ Rider,” Tuff murmured to his sister in the loudest stage whisper possible.

“Mm, indeed. So we can conclude he’s not making one for Astrid, perhaps because he likes catching her as much as she likes hurling herself off Nadders whenever Hiccup’s nearby.”

Hiccup was about to tell the Twins off, but there was a blur of movement and an axe was suddenly embedded in the table in front of two very astonished Nuts.

Tuff laughed nervously. “And on that note, wow, would you _look_ at the time. It is definitely special time for Chicken. Yep, gotta read my little hen a bedtime story. Night guys! Come on, let’s go sis!”

Bemused, Hiccup watched as Tuff grabbed Ruff’s hand and Chicken, fleeing to their hut. The male twin wasn’t really that afraid, if the thrilled grin on his face was any indication, but even Tuff seemed to know when he should quit provoking the Hofferson girl.

He turned to Astrid, a teasing question on his lips, and was met with furious blue eyes. “Not. One. Word. Hiccup Haddock.”

Hiccup was very fortunate that he managed to hold back his laughter until after she’d stormed off.


	41. No Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a difference between turkeys and chickens, Tuff swears there is.

“I don’t get it,” Snotlout said flatly. “How … How can you eat that?”

Tuff chewed and swallowed, glancing up from his turkey leg. “What? It’s not chicken, it’s turkey. Big difference.”

“No there’s not! They both taste exactly the same and they’re both birds! So if you claim to love chickens so much, how can you bring yourself to eat turkey?!”

The others had stopped their separate conversations to weigh in on this one. It was honestly an interesting question, at least where Tuffnut was concerned. 

“Easy, mon ami. Because while chickens are adorable and cuddly, turkeys are clearly a holdover from a time before the gods themselves, when giant flesh eating terror-birds roamed Midgard, stomping to death anything that moved.”

Fishlegs chuckled. “Tuffnut, there were never giant birds roaming Midgard. That’s silly.”

“Oh, really? Is it? Did Thor tell you so?”

“Well no, but it’s just common sense -”

“Come back and tell me that again after someone finds giant bird bones while digging a new well.”

Fishlegs looked at Heather, Hiccup and Astrid, who each shrugged - equally at a loss.

“Anyway, I'd put my neck on the line to spare a chicken, but not for a turkey. Never for a turkey. Nope, no love for turkeys whatsoever from the old T-nut.”

To make his point clear, Tuff took a big bite out of his turkey leg and chewed it ferociously.

Ruff sighed, taking it upon herself to give a much more relatable explanation.

"Look, Snotlout, have you ever tried to hug a turkey?”

“Uh, no? Those things are terrifying and bad tempered.”

“Well, Tuffnut tried to hug one the last time we were visiting Berk. He thought it looked sad, all alone in its pen. It … didn’t go too well,” she commented dryly. 

 “Niflheim hath no fury like a Tuffnut scorned,” Tuff grumbled in agreement.

“And boy, was he scorned. Am I right, bro?” She elbowed him playfully.

Tuff growled around another bite of turkey. "I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he sulked, peeling off the cooked crispy skin and stuffing it in his mouth. 

Snotlout blinked and then snorted in amusement. “Okay, well now I'm less bitter that you snatched the last turkey leg,” he smirked.

Having no better response, Tuff stuck out his tongue. 

Though he did thoughtfully yank off a hunk of unbitten meat from the leg, and dropped it on Snotlout’s plate. After all, what were friends for?


	42. Grassy Knoll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HTTYD Rarepair Prompt: “How long have you been standing there?” (Tuffnut/Astrid)

She was pissed. Royally pissed.

The stupid Changewing migration was over, which SHOULD have meant Tuff’s ridiculous ‘tribute’ of scaring the hell out of people was also over. One would think so, at least - but no …

Astrid glowered death at the hysterically laughing blond boy on the ground, currently rolling around in his camouflage suit made of lush green sod tied around his body.

He’d gotten her.

Really good too; Astrid was sure her scream had been heard back as far as the Clubhouse and that even now there was a scramble to mount up and go on a rescue mission.

“I can’t believe - “ Tuff gasped out finally, “That you actually laid on top of me!”

“Shut up,” she growled warningly, crossing her arms.

“I believe you were even starting to take a nap!”

“No, I wasn’t!” Astrid snapped, though in truth she actually had gotten quite comfortable, and she may have possibly started to zone out a little. In her defense, Tuff’s stupid camouflage had been comfortable.

That just made everything worse.

“If you tell anyone about this, I swear to Thor there really will be a Viking funeral by the end of this day!”

The trickster didn’t back off like any sane person would. In fact, he just grinned all the wider, and rolled over to lay exactly as he had been - looking like an unremarkable hill of comfortable grass, perfect for resting one’s unsuspecting back against.

Of course she could see him now, but that hardly counted.

“Who knew you had such a thing for grassy knolls after all? Maybe you should bring a picnic next time,” he teased, and winked at her.

Astrid’s cheeks colored and she did what she always did when flustered.

She roared, grabbed the nearest fallen tree branch and wielded it over her head like a cudgel.

“Aaah! Oh no, help! A stick!” Tuff bellowed and scrabbled to his feet to start running.

Though he sounded appropriately terrified, he somehow also didn’t at all.

It only made her chase him even farther.


	43. Stolen Kiss, Freely Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A “Blindsided” Tuffstrid AU, for reasons

“‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through’,” Astrid mimicked under her breath, and then growled, hurling her axe at a target. Her eyes were giving her no information as to how close she’d come to the bullseye, but she heard the satisfying 'thunk’ of weapon hitting wood.

Not bad for a blind Viking, right? Hiccup didn’t know what he was talking about; she could defend herself against the Triplestryke and any other threat just fine. With or without a dragon.

Stormfly’s lack of faith in her stung too, even though Astrid knew the Nadder was just being protective. Roaring with pent up hurt and frustration, Astrid hurled another axe.

A 'thunk’ sounded, accompanied by a scream.

Astrid yelped. It had sounded like one of the twins; only those two would be foolhardy enough to interrupt her training. “Tuff? Was that you?”

Silence was her answer and she drew in a worried breath. “Tuffnut, answer me. Did I hit you? Are you okay? TUFFNUT -”

A voice sounded right next to her left ear, making her jump.

“Loki’d,” Tuff said, sounding far too smug about it. Astrid turned on her heel and slammed a fist into his side, dropping him with a breathless groan.

Okay, _that_ had been satisfying.

“You complete jerk! You reckless, infuriating - I should just kill you right now and save the Dragon-Hunters the trouble!” Astrid ranted.

“Hmm. At least I would be guaranteed a proper funeral that way,” Tuff mused, now at her right. Astrid dealt him another hard punch, to his shoulder. Tuff grunted and moved away. “ _Easy_ , A. One might suspect you were actually worried you’d axed me.”

That gave her pause.

“I almost _did_ ,” she snarled. Hadn’t she?

“Actually, you came pretty close. I mean, I definitely felt the wind on it. I _had_ to come visit you though.”

Astrid scoffed, folding her arms. “Let me guess, you had to check on me.”

“Uh, no. I don't  _do_ that. But I wanted to ask if you could give me some tips - like how to use a dikfore.”

“What’s a dikfore?”

Tuff snickered and at once, Astrid realized she’d been had. She threw another punch, but this time it wasn’t nearly as hard. Tuffnut’s dirtier jokes were a guilty pleasure out here on the Edge, and Astrid was usually the one laughing hardest at them. This time was no different; she guffawed as soon as her fist landed on his arm, and Tuffnut’s delighted cackle joined her own.

“Jerk,” she snorted fondly. “So you’re here to pester me.”

“As always. _Unless_ …” Tuff’s warm arms embraced her from behind into a hug. “Feeelings! You want to talk about our feeeeelings –!” He crooned, swaying her along to his ridiculous song.

Astrid stomped on his foot, but she was laughing now. “We all swore to NEVER speak of that day!” she protested.

“Yes, but did we sign it in _blood_? I’m not sure if I remember,” he said, and it was honestly amazing how she could _hear_ the mischievous grin in his voice.

“You are _ridiculous_.”

He dropped his chin on her shoulder, still absently swaying with her in time to music only he could hear. Astrid just let it happen, feeling oddly at peace. Tuff was _here_ and making her laugh and he wasn’t treating her any different than normal - except maybe taking full advantage of the fact she couldn’t see him.

She appreciated that too; that Tuff saw no reason to give her special treatment. It was the same when he’d been so shocked at her losing a fight to Heather on Ryker’s ship. Tuff simply hadn’t accepted it. Remembering something he’d said then made her smirk.

“Hey, if I don’t get my sight back, maybe I can pray for eyes that shoot fire.”

“Heh. Trust me, A. You already _have_ eyes that shoot fire.”

Something about the way he had said that made sudden warmth course through her veins. Astrid shivered and pressed her back into his chest. She was blushing - she knew that, but she didn’t dare reach up to feel her own face.

Every other sense was hyper-aware, noticing the slight change in Tuff’s breathing as he suddenly held her closer. He swallowed, hesitating, while his pulse seemed to get quicker.

Astrid waited patiently, willing him to not back down.

She had always thought Hiccup would be hers, but over the years it had become apparent that the boy’s heart belonged in the air with his dragon and not on earth with her own. Astrid would always love and protect Hiccup with her life; but she’d slowly grown used to the fact that there would _never_ be a Hiccup and Astrid.

But, maybe …

A warm nose nuzzled against her jaw, and she couldn’t help but soften - this was the same trickster boy who had always been so hopelessly blunt and honest and who wasn’t afraid of pain. The same boy who had turned to her as they were under siege and had told her to take Stormfly and fly for her life.

She’d had a history with Hiccup, but now she wanted one with someone else.

Tuffnut’s dry lips brushed almost shyly across her jawline, giving her every chance to flip him over her shoulder and slam him to the unforgiving ground. He had no doubts as to whether she _could_ do it.

Astrid linked her fingers with Tuff’s longer ones, pressing them over her chest and squeezing tight. She turned her face to meet his and was pleased by the lips that captured her own; sweet as stolen elderberries.

The sunlight on her arms and face seemed to wane and a breeze made Tuff shiver lightly against her. They broke for air, but he still held on to her - absorbing her warmth just as much as he lent her his own. He’d always gotten cold easy, even as kids.

“Another storm,” Astrid muttered. “Great.”

“Want to go riding down a zip-line in the rain and wind? It’s probably even more fun to not know when to drop.”

Astrid snorted. “And go hurtling over the cliff to certain death? No thank you.” It was a little strange, going from kissing to bantering like nothing had happened. She rather liked it, though. “Besides, you’re freezing.”

“Am not,” Tuffnut protested, teeth obviously chattering.

“Are too. I bet your nose is already turning blue.”

“Whose nose? Mine?” Tuff buried it in the crook of her neck, an icy cold touch that made her yelp and earned him an elbow to the ribs. He coughed, then snickered. Astrid smirked and put a hand on his shoulder, steering him back to the Clubhouse.

A distant roar made them both pause. The Triplestryke …

Astrid sighed, her hopes of relaxing by the fire with a nice mug of mutton stew fading away.

“You think if we ask him nicely, he’ll just go to bed early?” Tuff asked.

“No, because that would be too easy. Come on, let’s get this over and done with.” Astrid trudged on ahead, feeling Tuff’s fingers gently squeeze hers as he followed.

There was no talk of going back and letting the others handle it - no putting any foot down on whether she was fit to do this.

He would only refuse leaving her side.

For the first time all day, Astrid genuinely smiled.


End file.
